


In the Land of Wind

by Bonemarroww



Series: From The Desert, They Came [2]
Category: Naruto
Genre: Canon Divergent, F/M, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Kazekage Gaara (Naruto), Light Angst, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-23
Updated: 2020-07-19
Packaged: 2021-03-03 02:00:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 30,347
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24337054
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bonemarroww/pseuds/Bonemarroww
Summary: When their silhouettes appeared on the horizon, Gaara realized that no amount of seeing them coming could prepare him for the reality of having his old friend in front of him; after all this time.~Takes place when Gaara is already Kazekage.~
Relationships: Gaara (Naruto)/Original Female Character(s), Gaara (Naruto)/Reader
Series: From The Desert, They Came [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1748215
Comments: 86
Kudos: 284





	1. A Visit From The Past

**Author's Note:**

> For the record : the timeline of this sequel is Unclear. I haven't followed Naruto long enough to stick to canon, unfortunately !  
> Gaara is Kazekage (he is about 20), the Akatsuki debacle around Shukaku happened, but that's it. Now there's relative peace.

The  Kazekage’s office was a beautiful place. It was spacious, with clear windows to let in golden light and the gentle sound of the busy streets of Sunagakure. A couple of cacti decorated the office, only personal touches to the otherwise sober place. It was peaceful. In that certain way, it was beautiful.

It hadn’t always been. In fact, until recent years, the place had been nothing but a refreshment room, for there hadn’t been a  Kazekage’s office at all. All there had been was a dark, stuffy room with no windows. Colorless, flat pillows to sit upon, and a cloth to hide  Suna’s leader from his advisors. At that time, the  Kazekage had lost most of his power; spending his bitter days plotting away and barely overseeing the economy of his country. His only domain of competence then had been the military; a bitter subject for the elites of  Suna since the fall of the Fourth.  It hadn’t taken more than a few moments in the room for the new leader to know he would never be like his predecessor.

When he had been chosen to become  Kazekage , there was much  Gaara had had to repair. Decades of envy and disregard for the people of  Sunagakure had brought the village’s economy to its knees, and there was not much left of the once proud and fierce people of the Desert. To say the advisors had been disgruntled to be forced to let go of the power they had accumulated over the years would be an understatement. They had been outraged. The very week Gaara had taken over the management of the state, two assassination attempts had been prevented thanks to the ever-vigilant Sand Siblings.

Things had been hard, but Gaara was used to hard. There had been many sleepless nights, but Gaara was used to exhaustion. There had been many attempts on his life, but there as well; nothing new. 

What was, however, was the closeness he shared with his siblings. Ever since his fight with the blond boy from Konoha, Naruto Uzumaki, and his decision to live to fight another day as they fled from the Hidden Leaf…  Gaara had tried to understand the strong bond all of the Konoha  nin seemed to share.

He had started by acknowledging his siblings more, learning to listen to their opinions and respect them. He had come to understand that no amount of threats on their lives could make them any more loyal; and with time, he had realized the very fact that they had never failed him  _ despite _ his terrible behaviour towards them was proof enough of their attachment to him.

No matter how much he tried, and how things now seemed to be looking up for his Village, the Fifth Kazekage couldn’t help feeling like he hadn’t done enough. Had he changed? Yes, he guessed so; but had he changed enough?

Children in the streets had still been raised with stories of his rampages. His name had been the one their parents had told them at night to keep them from misbehaving. They didn’t run from him anymore; but the  more timid ones did clutch their mothers’ hand whenever he walked by.

People he had grown up with still looked at him with this gaze; like he did not belong.  _ You may be the  _ _ Kazekage _ , he heard when he looked into their eyes.  _ But you’ll never be one of us. _ They still walked away, just like they did when he was younger; only not with fear in their eyes anymore, only mistrust. Contempt.

Temari said it would take time. He had done so much already to make amends; from now on, it was up to them to choose to see it.

Some things didn’t change, though; and when the night fell, and silence reclaimed the streets,  Gaara felt  lonelier even than he used to. Ever since Shukaku had been ripped from him, it felt like he had been given a new life; only, he did not know if he was using this gift correctly. Most nights, he still wouldn’t be able to sleep. Lying down on the bed felt weird. Closing his eyes only brought violent images, reminders of his past mistakes.

The rare times he managed to enter the realm of sleep, it was with  _ her  _ name on his lips, his sand half covering him so he could pretend it was her arm holding him close. Even then, only nightmares awaited him.

Anka.

Another name on the list of his failures. What is one more regret, after all.

He had looked for her. As soon as he had been appointed Kazekage, he had traveled to Konoha to make amends properly with their new Hokage. There had been much to do, but he had freed some time to check on her house, see if she would talk to him. He knew she owed him nothing, not after all she had given to him. And if she should have sent him away, of course he would have complied.

His friend –would she still call him her friend after she learned of the role he had played in the invasion of her country? His friend hadn’t been there. The house had been empty, dust gathering on her shelves. Silly of him to think she would be waiting at her door just so he could apologize, he guessed.

All in all, he had left Konoha like one comes home from a lost battle.

He wondered if this would take time, too.

“I know I said you were done for the day…” a voice interrupted his musings. “But there has been a pressing matter.”

The redhead turned from the window, repressing a sigh, to face Temari.

“Nins from Konoha are requesting to see you at your earliest convenience.”

Immediately,  Gaara perked up. Could it be Naruto visiting him again? The blonde boy had come several times to  Sunagakure to check in on him, and the redhead now considered him one of his dearest friends.

Trying to remember if he had received any letter recently that might justify his friend’s visit in Sunagakure, Gaara sat at his desk, pushing aside some paperwork that was starting to pile up on the wooden surface. He would have to ask Kankurô to take them to his advisors for rereading of his amendments before he could sign them.

“Let them in.”

The fan-wielding Nin nodded, and opened the door to inform his visitors of their admittance inside the Kazekage’s office. First entered a young man, about his age, with thin glasses, and then a tough looking girl the redhead was certain he had already seen somewhere. They were looking at him almost expectantly, though not with the cheerfulness of old friends; clearly recognizing him, and waiting for him to acknowledge them as well.

It took a second for the redhead to retrace his memories; and his breath hitched when he remembered. The last time  Gaara had seen these faces; he had tried to take over Konoha. The last time he had seen these shinobis,  _ she _ had been right beside them, smiling as she wished the girl luck on her upcoming fight.

A warm hope bloomed in his chest, and immediately his gaze darted for the door, waiting for a familiar figure to walk past the threshold. His mouth felt too dry, his hands useless. What did people even do with their hands?

The Kazekage settled on clutching them in front of him, in as composed a manner as he could, and took in the last of the Konoha Shinobis.

When his eyes fell on the dog mask covering the face of the third Nin, he felt his eagerness plummet. This was not Anka. He did not know who this masked woman was, but it definitely was not his first friend. Gaara adverted his eyes, and his hands trembled with the need to clutch at his heart; if only to keep it together, for it felt like it had shattered in a thousand bitter pieces.

For the first time, he saw the gazes of the two familiar Nins softening towards him; his crushing disappointment must have been obvious.

It had been years, he figured. Anka had probably forgotten him, if she had even found it in her heart to forgive him. She had many friends. Only he did not have such a luxury, it appeared.

Noting his lack of greetings, Temari glared at him as she excused his behavior.

Throughout the meeting, Gaara couldn’t help being distracted. His mind didn’t want to wrap around the matter at hand; a fugitive from Konoha who had taken residence in Sunagakure. He would have to thank Temari a thousand times afterwards, for she handled the meeting better than his sorrowful self ever could have; granting the Konoha Nins permission to arrest and repatriate the criminal.

Mechanically, he signed the sheet they presented him with, barely reading over it.

“Thank you, Lord Kazekage.” The boy bowed in front of him.

Feeling numb, Gaara only nodded in response.

As Temari was about to see them out of his office, the redhead lifted his hand to stop her, and spoke, really spoke, for the first time since they had entered his office.

“Anka...” It had been a long time since he had spoken her name out loud, but it rolled off his tongue as easily as it used to. 

_ Does she hate me? _

He swallowed.

“How is she?”

The vandal –as he remembered he used to call her– seemed taken aback by his question. She crossed her arms, and looked somewhere else. Of the trio, he could remember her as being the fiercest in her determination to protect Anka. She had never much liked him; that he could understand.

“She’s fine.” She curtly answered.

The young man elbowed her in the ribs, shaking his head disapprovingly at her tone.  Gaara heard him hissing her name – _ Yue _ –, then mutter something about addressing the  Kazekage and a promise. He then straightened himself, bowing slightly to excuse his friend’s behavior. 

“Our friend is in good health. She looks forward to hearing from you again.” He added, to pacify him or as an authentic sentiment, Gaara did not know.

The Kazekage nodded, half relieved to hear news of his friend. The last time he had asked, Naruto hadn’t known to answer to him; saying they hadn’t crossed paths in a while.

“As a matter of fact, Anka entrusted us with a message for you.” 

Hope was a mad thing. No matter how bruised it could become, it would rise again until satisfied. At this moment, in the heart of Suna’s leader, it filled every little crack in his armor, every fissure in his confidence.

The young man –Gaara wished he remembered his name– fished a letter from his pocket, and set it down on the desk. Its paper was white and clean enough, though a bit crumpled from having traveled so far in a pocket. The creaks revealed an uneven volume inside, which immediately caught his attention. 

“We’ll come back before we leave for Konoha again, if you want to give us something to pass on to her.”

Gaara rose to his feet to thank them properly. His fingers were itching to open the letter, but he had been informal –or too formal- enough on their visit.

He offered them a small smile; not exactly authentic, but far from forced, as he let his fingers trace the edges of the envelope almost longingly.

“I would appreciate that.”

It was the wee hours of the night before  Gaara found the strength to break the seal and open the envelope. The eagerness he had felt earlier at the thought of receiving word of her had quelled into nagging nervousness as to what words the letter may contain. She hadn’t forgotten him. The thought warmed his heart but dread was quick to catch up to him.

Gaara remembered clearly the last time he had seen Anka; really been with her, and not from the other side of an arena. It had been the night before the invasion, and though he had not yet destroyed a substantial part of Konoha’s forest heritage and threatened to kill several of her acquaintances, he had been feeling lonely and scared,  _ missing _ her as if he was already gone. The now  Kazekage still couldn’t believe he had thought it all right to invite himself in her bed on the ground that he had woken her up, and was therefore not invading her space without her knowledge. She had still opened her arms to him, and kept him close to her heart throughout the night. He had left in the early hours of the morning, guessing what little mercy she had graced him with wouldn’t last long after the sun would rise.

It was not exactly as if she had consciously allowed him in.

Not to even think on the last time she had talked to him. He still remembered the fear in her eyes as she condemned his violence. Her hand was shaking when she had given him back his gift. At the time, he hadn’t understood why; surely, she knew, after all the time he had been by her side, that he had no design on ending her life.

Gaara closed his eyes, breathing deeply. There were times like these when he hated the boy he had been, not even so long ago. This was the very reason why he was so scared he might slip back into his old patterns, if he wasn’t careful enough.

What worse could be into that letter? He wondered. What harsher truths than his failure as a friend?

With this in mind and hesitancy in his movements, he tore the seal. His heart was beating strongly as he slid a folded paper from the envelope, ignoring for now the solid object that came with it.

_ Lord Kazekage, _

_I hope this letter finds you in good health and good spirits. I have long hesitated to write to you, fearing any letter of mine might be unwelcome. Finally, this decision has been made for me, for I find myself not knowing what to do besides imploring your clemency._   
_As you well know, my family has been exiled from of our motherland for many years now. My elder, Kadja Rukushika, craves the land that saw her be born, and I fear she might soon become too old to travel safely._

_ I hate to ask this of you; but if you could lift her banishment, even for a single week, and allow her to see Sunagakure again, I would forever be in your debt. _

_ Best regards _

_ Anka Rukushika _

  
_PS: I accidentally broke the gift you gave me in a rough landing a couple of weeks ago, for that I am eternally sorry. I entrust you with the splinter, for safekeeping._

When Gaara laid on his bed that night, his heart felt like it was about to burst. His fingers were toying with the fragment from the desert rose, as he basked in the agreeable disbelief that she had kept it. The first gift he had ever made, though he had been confused himself as to his intention. Anka had kept it, and close to her, throughout all these years. 

Her letter was formal, except for that little note under her signature, but she  _ was _ addressing a  Kazekage for a favor before all else. The optimist in him knew she wouldn’t have kept his token for so long after their parting ways –even if it was on uncertain terms– if she didn’t hold the littlest affection for him still.

It had come as a relief that she should ask him formally to lift her family’s sentence. He had thought about it many times since he had been made Kazekage, naturally. During the first months of his ruling over Suna, he had spent so much time trying to fix everything, that it had almost slipped his mind. Once things had been a bit more settled, he had informed his advisors of his decision to lift the Rukushika’s banishment, as was his right to do as the head of military and justice. They hadn’t been thrilled, protesting that this sentence was a big part of the history of Sunagakure, and that a former Kazekage’s will wasn’t so easily denied –especially the Third. 

Gaara had been uncompromising, and they had relented; but he had always doubted whether they had really alerted the border guards of the change in law, and hadn’t dared to contact Anka to inform her. What would he have said? That after he tried to invade her country, she would be welcome in his?

No, it was really easier that she should be the first one to write. That way, he could entrust her team mates with an official scroll to let her in the Land of Wind.

Gaara closed his eyes, and slowed his breathing, looking for that one memory. Part of him knew it to be little more than a dream, the only harmless dream he had ever been graced with;  in the midst of a battle in Konoha, no less, as the Tanuki’s Slumber made him surrender control to  Shukaku .

If he tried hard enough, maybe he could have it again.

_ Anka, _

_ I thank you for your letter, and wish for your health and happiness as well. Your letters shall never be  _ _ unwelcome _ _ here. Neither will you. I have enclosed a scroll for you to show any guard you may find at the border; it states your family’s right to come back to  _ _ Suna _ _ , indefinitely.  _

_ I would very much like to welcome you in person to my village, if you should let me know when you plan on visiting.  _

_ Gaara _

_ PS: I am glad you kept it for so long. I may repair it when we meet again, if that is your wish. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's the little surprise I was talking about : this story will be written entirely from Gaara's point of view !  
> The title is temporary, I just never have any idea how to call my stories... This one is just called "Gaara's Deserved Good Ending" in my drafts.
> 
> Now for the updating schedule : I will post every week on Saturday until I'm done writing the draft, and then, go back to the previous schedule of every 4-5 days.  
> I currently have 7 chapters ready, and I think the story will be complete in 10.  
> Also, chapters will be a little longer than FTDTC, around 3000-3500 words.
> 
> Hope you all liked this first chapter !  
> As always, kudos and comments are more than welcome !


	2. A Familiar Stranger

Gaara looked at himself in the mirror. It was the day. Anka had written back to him, to his greatest joy, to thank him and inform him that she and her grandmother would arrive the day before the Southern Winds festival, one of  Sunagakure’s oldest traditional events, and one Anka had never gotten to experience before. They would stay for  about a week, and then, travel back to Konoha.

The young  Kazekage could scarcely believe he was about to meet with his friend after so many years. He had grown, though he wasn’t so tall. He kept his hair a bit longer than he used to, though not long enough to hide his scar. It was not the part of him he was the  most proud of; a constant reminder of the monster he was in his early teens, of the lonely soul of his childhood. He knew better now than to deny it, though.

Temari had been thrilled to learn he would welcome Anka. As far as he knew, she had never spoken to the girl, but she remembered the tenderness the Konoha girl had shown to her younger brother. It was the first time she had seen someone tag along Gaara willingly, touching him without fear or sand interposing, making him relaxed enough to lay on her lap as she was playing with his hair. It was one of the fondest memories Gaara kept of her, Temari knew. 

She had tried to give him advices, something  Gaara had found odd but not inopportune. Knowing his sister approved of his decision not to go on full  Kazekage regalia to welcome Anka had calmed his nerves, and so he had thanked her.  She had also had the quick thought of reminding him she would be accompanied by an elder, and thus to show some respect before any catching up with her.

Before leaving for the entrance of the village,  Gaara checked his heart. It was beating quite fast; he knew from both excitement and nervousness. But her last letter had eased his doubts and put his fears to rest; she was looking forward to meet him as well, she had written. Her words were hesitant, and so were his, but it helped to know they were both enthusiastic to meet again.

It wasn’t too soon, yet not too late.

And so,  Gaara made his way to the northern entrance of the village. From where he stood, still and straight, he could see far enough in the direction of Konoha to prepare himself to welcome them. 

Anka had said they would arrive in the mid afternoon, when the sun was still high but the temperature would start to decrease. For all of their agreeable relationship, Konoha and  Suna had failed to find a means of travel between their capital that would satisfy both the people’s eagerness to learn about their neighbors and the councilmen’s paranoia. What better way to invade a nation than to use automated transport? If the council members of Konoha and  Suna ever agreed, it was on the fact that they were better off without that trouble.

It was a subject he was working on, slowly. Not everyone could see the unification of two capitals as a sign of understanding and peace. 

The shadows moved as  Gaara stayed put, gazing away into the desert. They had still not arrived. Maybe something had happened to them. At this season, sandstorms were rarer than the rest of the year, but on a stroke of bad luck, still possible. The sky appeared clear, though. 

Gaara ignored the wondering looks of the occasional  passersby , only nodding at them when one was brave or nice enough to wish him a good day.

His rationality was telling him that many things could happen in the desert that could slow down a young kunoichi and her grandmother; but this thought was only marginally more reassuring than that of Anka having changed her mind and decided not to come.

When finally, after nearly an hour of unbearable waiting, their silhouettes appeared on the horizon,  Gaara realized that no amount of seeing them coming could prepare him for the reality of having his old friend in front of him after all this time.

She was beautiful. Her features had aged charmingly, from the thirteen-year-old girl he had always remembered, into that of a young woman. Her skin was slightly tanned from having trailed in the desert for days, and her smile was shy but bright.  Gaara knew himself to have grown quite a bit, but even though he could see he now stood a few inches taller than his friend, it still felt like she towered slightly above him. 

For a long while, none of them dared speak, as they took in the other. She recovered more quickly than he did, though, as she was the first to break the silence between them.

“Sorry, we’re late.” Her voice was slightly hoarse, little more than a whisper, as though it had failed her despite her will to speak up with confidence.

Her sheepish expression, growing a bit more anxious with every second he stood silently starstruck in front of her, is what shook him from his shock. Finally noticing the elderly woman next to his friend, who was looking at him with patient eyes, Gaara cleared his throat and bowed his head.

“Anka. Respected Kadja. Welcome to Sunagakure.” He had thought about a more formal speech, but his mouth felt suspiciously dry and he didn’t know how he would manage to keep talking like this.

He was startled when the old woman chuckled. Her eyes were gentle and of a deep brown; they had the wrinkles of someone who had known a lifetime of laughter. She was wearing fabrics from Konoha, but in a traditional  Suna fashion he recognized from his childhood, and could still see in the old tea shops where the elders of  Suna liked to gather. Around her waist, he noticed a belt with flasks, very similar to the one he had seen around Anka’s hips around the time of the preliminaries.

“Please, just Kadja is fine, young man.” The older woman assured him nicely.

Anka blushed and gently shook her grandmother’s arm.

“Lord Kazekage, grandma. Not ‘young man’.” She whispered.

As Gaara was about to tell her it didn’t matter, the older woman shooed her daughter’s worries.

“Well,  isn’t he young?” she said. “And isn’t he a man?”

“I- Yes, I mean, I guess he is?” Anka looked like she would rather hide anywhere than stay where she was.

“Then there is no disrespect in calling a cat a cat.” Kadja Rukushika smiled, obviously good-humored as she looked behind the redhead and into the streets of the village she was born in.

When  Gaara stepped out of their way, revealing the main street of Sunagakure, with its buildings of sandstone, the little cafes and shops, he saw a look of unadulterated wonder grow on Anka's face. She wasn't home, he knew, for she had lived all of her life in the land of Fire, and would probably always think of the green forests of Konoha as her home. Still, he spied, as they walked, recognition in her eyes; everywhere she looked, things she had always heard of but never yet seen, people so different from those she knew, yet looking oddly familiar. Like a distant family member that you meet for the first time, or a long-forgotten childhood toy you find again by chance.

She watched his village and  Gaara watched her, a foreign pride in his chest. He hoped she would like what she would see, for the blood in her veins made it hers also. They walked on the main streets, the old woman telling them anecdotes of her childhood and early adult life in the village. Though  Gaara would have imagined a more private time getting re-acquainted with Anka, it was actually pretty nice getting an insight on the history of the village from a person who knew it first hand, decades ago.

He could still steal looks at the young woman he had missed so terribly, when she was busy being amazed by the architecture or silly story her grandmother was telling them about; all the while catching up on so much he had never been taught as a child.  Gaara never knew how embarrassed he was being  Kazekage of a village he didn’t know so well, all in all.

At some point, Anka caught on with his game of pretending not to be looking at her more than at his own village. That, or she was as fascinated with the sight of him as he was with the sight of her, so close after so long. Her eyes were no longer that of a carefree but caring teen; they were  more sharp , though just as kind. More than once, after a humorous (if not downright salacious) anecdote from her grandmother, did she search for his gaze, amusement making her irises glint in the sun.

They had not spoken to each other on a personal level yet, but the easy companionship  Kadja brought them was agreeable enough, and surprisingly relaxing.  Gaara had never been a man to like many people, and when he had first been friends with Anka, had never entertained the thought of getting to know her family. After years on uncertain terms,  Gaara had expected their reunion to be more tensed precisely due to the presence of a member of her family.

If anything,  Kadja’s playful nature and sly jokes was relieving.

That is, until it stopped.

“And this, my children, is where I’m leaving you.” The elder stopped.

Looking up,  Gaara saw they had arrived in front of an old, quiet bar. The paint on the façade was quite faded, and the only customers he could see inside were at least the age of his late father. He was almost certain he had never been in this little street. Their improvised guide, however, entered the place like she owned it; and did so before  Gaara could even say goodbye properly. He was surprised to see from outside the windows the way the barkeeper, an old plump man with a mustache, smiled at her like he had known her his whole life; calling other patrons to crowd around  Kadja , all looking from mildly surprised to overjoyed.

“She- She’s just left us alone.” 

Gaara flushed when he realized how it sounded. Anka watched him curiously, seemingly confused as to his meaning. He cleared his throat, thinking on places where he could bury himself at a later time.

“When are we supposed to get back to her?” He clarified.

His friend just smiled, stepping closer to put a hand on his forearm, obviously noticing how tensed he now was by their sudden being together, really together, again. It had been nice having someone with them to get used to each other’s presence without being all awkward about it; but  Gaara guessed it was too late for that last part.

“This place belongs to my family.” Anka spoke softly.

She was using the same tone he remembered her speaking with the few times she had seen him losing his mind, when he was still  Gaara of the Desert; bearer of  Shukaku , Sand Demon. He wasn’t sure how much he liked it, but at least she was trying to make him more comfortable, which he was grateful for. 

“It has been arranged that we would stay here. You don’t have to worry about getting back to her.” She explained. 

The  Kazekage nodded, and for a moment, they just looked at each other, the young man very conscious of the feeling of her warm hand on his arm; enjoying the contact, before she noticed it as well and removed her hand with a quick apology.

“What would you like for us to do, Anka?” He finally spoke, hating how his voice instantly lowered, coming out more intense than he had intended.

Gaara couldn’t believe he hadn’t taken the time to plan something. Sure, he had been busy with his duties as  Kazekage , but there was also the increasing realization that he would be a poor guide to his village. He could still remember how she used to tell him about childhood memories as she walked through the streets of Konoha with him. It felt like every corner had its own memory attached to it.

He didn’t have that. He knew quite little about  Sunagakure , and didn’t have  Kadja’s talent for storytelling.  Gaara didn’t have too many happy –or even entertaining– memories either, and the notable places he remembered tended to have hurtful backstories.  _ “Oh, this roof here is where my uncle tried  _ _ to kill _ _ me. I was six years old. And in that corner? I killed a man once.” _ Somehow, he doubted she would like to hear about all that.

“I think I’d like a quiet place where we could chat, and... lie down, maybe.”

Looking at her,  Gaara noticed for the first time that her skin glistened in a thin layer of sweat, both from the hot temperature –though it wasn’t yet summer- and the exercise of walking to  Sunagakure , and then in town with him on the little tour her grandmother had given them.

“Of course. Lying down.” He repeated, because the sheer novelty of this situation was enough to make his brain feel very much slower than his usual sharp wit.

Unless it was her unnerving presence, and his ignorance as to how to deal with how she seemed to make him feel. Anyway, he thought she might just be right. Maybe all they needed was to find a place a bit more private than the middle of a street, in the shade, where they could just sit down and talk. Just like they used to.

“I think I might know a place.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is a bit shorter than the others, but I'm on a big rush this week so I didn't have the time to do anything about it. Also, my computer keeps freezing every couple of words, which makes writing and editing quite uncomfortable.  
> Anyway, I hope you still liked this chapter! Don't hesitate to leave comments & kudos, they make my day !


	3. The Greenhouses

For the most part of their walk, none of them talked. It wasn’t that they did not find anything worth saying; they had years of catching up to do. It was more of an agreeable quiet, listening to the agitation in the streets, watching the people and the children, the houses. At some point, as they were crossing a market street busy with people decorating and preparing for the festival, Gaara circled Anka’s waist with his arm to keep her close, fearing she might get lost in the crowd. It came naturally to him, and minutes after, as they were both surprised and a bit flustered of his caring gesture,  Gaara thought it had fit perfectly. 

Their route led them to the  Kazekage’s building, which she stopped to admire. When they walked around it, he pointed his quarters, telling her about the palace his father had built for the  Kazekage’s family, that he hadn’t lived in in years. 

When she asked,  Gaara answered that he didn’t feel good having so much space for himself, and while it was true, for the most part, he couldn’t deny it was also that he had so little good memories in that house, it wasn’t worth settling there. He did gladly let  Kankurô and Temari live there, though.

Finally, after a dozen minutes of walking, they arrived to his new favorite place in  Sunagakure –besides the roof of his office, from where he could watch over his village.

The greenhouses.

“Our climate is not as mild as that of Konoha.” He explained as he took her through one of the greenhouses. “Very hot in the day, very cold in the nights. This is the only way we manage to grow plants; besides cacti, that is.”

Anka nodded, marveling at the glass structure –but the Land of Wind  _ was _ renowned for its art of glass-making, and so she was only half surprised.

“It is a very beautiful place.” She excitedly smiled at him, and  Gaara felt his heart jump in relief when she seemed to approve of his choice.

The  Kazekage led her to a secluded corner in one of the large glass houses. It was a spot he often frequented when he needed a break from the stress and the paperwork his duties imposed on him. From there, he could sit or, on rare occasions, lay on the ground in the shade and quiet of the plants grown in the greenhouses, yet still be able to breath the fresh air and look at the sky.  Gaara found it to be much more stress relieving than whatever breathing exercise  Kankurô had tried to teach him when he had addressed his brother with the issue during his first few months of being  Kazekage . By now, the greenhouse workers knew of his soft spot for this place, and knew not to bother him. 

He had never taken anyone here –who, besides his siblings, did he have to show this place to? Especially when it was solitude and  quiet he was looking for here in the first place.

Still, seeing Anka gratefully laying down in the sand, uncaring how it could get in her hair or clothes, and just bathe in the shade, eyes closed, he knew he did a good thing to bring her here. She was the only person he would want to share this place with.

Overcome with familiar memories of similar situations,  Gaara directly laid beside her, baring himself of his title and propriety for a much deserved while. 

For a long moment, they both just breathed in the air, listening to the sound of the wind on the dunes. In the end, he was the first to speak, his voice low and shy, as if sharing secrets.

“I missed you.”

He breathed in deeply, closing his eyes, not to look at her until he was done saying his piece. 

“For a long time, I did not know if I had the right to feel that way. I told myself you probably hated me. I missed you all the same.”

He heard her turn towards him, and the next thing he knew, Anka had taken one of his hands in both of hers. For years, he had kept the memory of hands pleasantly rougher than his, and was glad to note things hadn’t changed.

“I don’t hate you,  Gaara .” Her voice was soft, the way one talks to a wounded animal, and he wondered if that was what he really was. “I missed you too. I am truly glad to be here with you today.”

A small smile crept on his lips, and he squeezed her hand slightly, opening his eyes to take her in. She was speaking in earnest, that he knew. When he opened his eyes, he almost expected to see the face of her younger self; but her voice had aged slightly, and it was no longer a teenager but a young woman who faced him.

His mouth felt dry when he asked her.

“What happened after I... after...” Gaara didn’t know how he should refer to the last time they had seen each other; he knew mentioning the failed invasion was inevitable, yet it felt so wrong to speak about it. “After I left Konoha?”

Her hands left his. He immediately missed her touch, but seeing her casually crossing her arms behind her head, looking at the rare clouds, it didn’t sting like rejection. Her eyes didn’t look sad, to his relief.

“It was hard at first, what with the death of our  Hokage , and the loss of  Suna and Oto’s trust. I had never felt ashamed of who I was before, but in the streets, we would hear unsavory things about your people. Our people.” She corrected herself, for the first time referring to them as a part of the same whole. “My family moved back to Kohaku for a couple of years to wait it out. It got better with time. It may be silly, but, when I heard you had been named  Kazekage , I was so proud.”

The redhead looked at her from the corner of his eye, surprised. She was still looking at the clouds, a small smile on her lips.

“You were?”

Anka shrugged, and suddenly her shy grin was directed at him.

“Yes, I mean, I wasn’t sure how I was feeling about you, but somewhere? I was stupidly proud.”

_ And now, do you know? _ Is what he was dying to ask. Instead,  Gaara indulged in the warm feeling her words instilled in his chest, holding onto it while it lasted.  _ Don’t be greedy _ , he chastised himself.

“I looked for you.” He quietly admitted, not because he wanted her to be grateful, but because he felt like she deserved to know.

Anka didn’t answer, and when Gaara looked her way, her eyes were clouded by thoughts he could guess were not pleasant. Had he said too much? It had to have been something he said, for the minutes before, she had been alright. Could he, for once in his life, not be such a terrible friend?

“Is there something wrong?” He worried, crouching up on his elbows.

There was a forlorn look on her face, that she didn’t try to cover. His friend had always worn her heart on her sleeve; always honest with her emotions. It was almost painful how Gaara tried to be more like her. Deep inside, he was still the reserved boy he had been in his early teens; far from the earnest kid he had been, before many attempts on his life had hardened him.

Beneath the pedestal he had hoisted her memory onto, it felt like she deserved better. She deserved for him to be honest and straightforward, like her.

“Naruto said...” His ears perked up when he heard his friend’s name. “He said you died. When... you know. The Akatsuki... When  _ they _ took it from you.”

Sobered by the heavy subject and the hurtful memories that surged at its mention, Gaara looked down. Of course, she would know. A part of him was glad he did not have to explain; the same that made him feel so undeserving all the time. 

“It made me sick. Just... you know, thinking that you may have died, and I wasn’t there. And the last thing I told you, it was so mean. We never even said goodbye, and now you’re dead.”

The  Kazekage kept silent. It would be a lie to say that he had never considered the what-could-have-been; and that in the end, her face had not been one of the last memories he had gripped onto, clawing at life though it was already too late. 

“Did it hurt very much?” She  inquired; her voice low.

When he fixed his gaze in hers, it seemed to mirror the same sorrow, the same pain he felt deep inside. His memories of the events leading to his death were scarce, as he had been unconscious most of the time, to his great shame. He had been floating in a dark place, though he was vaguely aware of being chased, handed from person to person until it came. The excruciating pain.

_ So much more than one thinks a body can endure. Like having claws ripping you from the inside. The beast breaking the ribs that caged it as it was forcefully pulled out.  _

“Yes. It did.”

One of his hands found his heart, and  Gaara found some comfort in the fact that it was still beating strong enough. Sometimes, when he allowed himself some sleep, it would throb with phantom pain, and it felt weak. Like it couldn’t take it anymore. He would then wake up, breathless and heart beating erratically. The head doctor had told him  Shukaku’s extraction might have damaged his body more than they had expected, resulting in long-lasting after effects.

What a destiny,  Gaara thought. Of all things a  Kazekage could die of, heart failure wouldn’t be the one most would bet on; yet according to the medics he had entrusted with these aches, it was something he would have to consider and monitor.

“I can’t recall all of it. I think I was gone before it was over.”

Anka didn’t answer. Before he knew it, however, she had shifted closer to him, draping her arm above his waist, pulling him closer to her as she nestled her head in the crook of his neck. Gaara blushed as he felt her trembling breath on his shoulder; shamefully enjoying how close to him she was. Their position reminded him of past times; and as he awkwardly snaked an arm around her to properly hold her form, he indulged in the distant but familiar feeling of showing love.

Despite the changing of his ways, and his newfound friendship with his siblings and his cordial acquaintance with many a shinobi under his command, Gaara had never felt comfortable with physical displays of affection. Not the kind he had shared in Konoha with Anka, that is. 

Sometimes, when he was overworking himself in the deep of night, Temari would visit him with her eyes full of sleep and a visible pillow mark on the cheek, and she would put her hand on his shoulder and tell him to go to rest. Sometimes, when recalling an amusing memory or when trying to get his younger brother out of his self-inflicted isolation with promises of good times and pretty girls,  Kankurô would nudge him with his elbow, full of good humor.

It was tender, and  Gaara cared a lot for these moments. Even if they were more subtle than open, they made him feel secure among his siblings, loved by the people he shared most of his life with. It was good, reassuring.

But it was just not the same. He had never considered taking Temari in his arms that way; even though he had seen her embrace Kankurô in relief after he had recovered from the poison. This feeling of his old friend in his arms, keeping him close in her grief over the fate that almost befell him? It was more than good. It felt alive.

Eventually, her breathing calmed, yet Anka remained close. Her ear was on his heart and her hair tickled his neck; but he did not dare move.

“I dreamt of you.”

Gaara felt his cheeks grow warm when he felt Anka move to look upon his face. He closed his eyes not to see her reaction to his statement. He hadn’t meant to blurt it out this way. It was something he had kept quiet for a long time now, sometimes doubting its own existence, until a smell, a sound, a stray touch of a certain fabric on his skin, would remind him of it. 

Anka lifted herself off him to send him a surprised look, though she kept one of his hands in her own.

“Only once.” He felt obligated to say, as if it would make it more acceptable somehow.

It was the first time he had ever dreamt, really dreamt. In fact, it was the first time he had ever slept, really slept too. On the fevered pit of battle, his legs entrapped in unforgiving sand, he had renounced consciousness and let the demon inside take over. When he had closed his eyes, feeling every muscle in his body relenting, she had been there.

“We were back in the forest. The day before I fought your friend.” 

Gaara could still remember the golden light and the feeling of the moving shadow of rustling leaves on their skin. Far from the agitation of the city, there had been nothing but the sounds of the forest. They had been alone, without being alone. When he thought back on it, the redhead often wondered if it was the first  time he had ever been truly happy, under the illusion that the world no longer existed beyond the trees surrounding them. 

“You were holding my hand, like right now. Like back then.” 

Her thumb drew lazy circles on his skin, and Gaara felt warm. It was such an odd thing, for of course, it was always warm under the bright sun of Suna; but right now, he felt pleasantly warm inside, just under his skin.

“So... it was a memory?” Anka’s voice was soft. 

It felt like everything about her was soft. Her voice, when she talked to him. Her gaze, when she looked at him. Her lips looked soft, too. Everything but her palms. An anchor in the haze. 

Gaara opened his mouth, but no sound came out. No, it was not a memory. It was not, or he would remember clear as day every moment of it, and not just the parts his brain was trying to make him think  were real because they were so similar to what he had lived with her.

It was not a memory, or he wouldn’t have lived years not knowing if it had been real or not; some days feeling the intensity of it, some days knowing it couldn’t be, and on most days, forgetting it altogether.

“Did you kiss me, that day?”

He felt her confusion in the way her fingers stopped tracing patterns on his hand. By chance, she seemed to feel too confused to stop holding his hand. The redhead wasn’t sure he could take it. Lose it, rather. 

“I... No, I did not.”

Fearing he might be embarrassing her, Gaara gingerly removed his hand from hers before the opposite could happen. His back felt cramped from laying on uncomfortable sand for too long, and so he sat up, unconsciously turning his back on her.

“Then it was no memory.” His tone was light, absent-minded.

It was nice to have an answer, after all this time. Too often had the mirage of her soft smile and the fleeting memory of lips upon his tormented him.  Now that he knew, surely it would fade away. No point in dwelling long on past sleep-deprived, elusive thoughts.

Both to his regret and relief, his confession put the conversation to a halt.  Gaara was new to affection, yet he couldn’t help feeling like this was not the kind of conversation one had with their friend; even the best of them. After all he had done wrong, there was nothing he wanted more than to do things the right way as he mended their friendship. Anka had lots of friends, and  Gaara would be damned if he were to be the only one who did friendship wrong. She deserved better from him.

As he shifted towards her, about to apologize for the unwanted subject their conversation had strayed to, Gaara caught a look in her eyes. It was bright, in a mischievous way he was not accustomed to seeing in her.

He liked it.

“What?”

Anka shook her head, a little smile on her lips. He hadn’t noticed how well the light of Suna’s sun adorned her traits.

“Nothing.” Her breathed answer was shaky from a repressed chuckle, and the redhead let himself smile as well. “I’m just fond of you.”

There was something tender in her tone, something earnest, and never had Gaara felt the same kind of elation as he did now, hearing her put his doubts at bay. His ears felt warm, and his hands clumsy, and for a reason he did not know, words seemed caught in his throat. Otherwise, he would have reciprocated the feeling in a heartbeat.

Instead, he just smiled, and looked away. His hand mechanically came to his heart; maybe someday, he would get used to its happy rhythm.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How do you feel about some fluff, for a change ? :P
> 
> Also the other day I found a Tunisian proverb that went like that : "When the earth tans, men might as well nap." So considering Suna has a similar climate, I thought maybe it is too a part of their culture to sleep during the hottest hours of the day?  
> Can you imagine Gaara closing his office for a couple of hours in the early afternoon to go snuggle in bed with his girlfriend? Because I can ! ^^
> 
> As always, comments are very much welcome !  
> Have a nice day !


	4. Distractions

The next day, hidden away in the  Kazekage’s office,  Gaara could barely hide how his ears perked up with every knock on his door. The hours seemed to trickle away more slowly than he was used to; and as much as he would pretend the contrary whenever Temari came in to check on his work –going slower than usual-, the Kazekage knew it to be because of the healer. 

When he had walked her back to her family’s place, late in the night, Gaara had been anxious it would be the last he would see of Anka during her stay. He was already grateful she had chosen to dedicate her first hours in Sunagakure to him and not the family his predecessors had taken from her so long ago. 

Luckily, she had answered to his fears before he had had to say them out loud, asking when they could see each other again. Gaara had never hated his duties as Kazekage as much as then, when he had sourly admitted to having plenty of work to catch up on. Still, one did not discourage Anka Rukushika that easily, and she had offered to hang out in his office, if he would allow it.

Who was he to refuse?

He had cleared his afternoon schedule of meetings, to focus only on the paperwork while his friend would be there. He had not missed the irritated looks on some of the old councilmen’s faces when he had informed them of his change in program. But for once in his time as a Kazekage, he was feeling selfish enough to indulge in the presence of a friend. His siblings had backed him up as discreetly as they could, but  Gaara had a fine eye and he had seen both Temari’s glare at the reluctant old men and  Kankurô’s pride at the  Kazekage’s inflexibility. 

Even the Kazekage deserved some peace sometimes; even though Gaara was still grasping the fact that he deserved more than to be slaving away for his village.

When finally, the door to his office was opened by one of his guards to reveal Anka’s silhouette, Gaara felt an almost instinctive relief wash over him. Stupidly enough, it felt like now that she was here, he could focus and get things done.

How pathetic was it, that he had missed her since they had parted the day before?

Deciding a little break wouldn’t make him much more delayed than he already was, Gaara put his pen down and invited Anka to sit on the side of his desk, close enough not to feel too formal about her presence in front of him.

“How was your day with your family?”

His inquiry was not motivated by politeness but the earnest wish to learn. He had learnt that true friends talked, and showed they cared by being curious and open. Gaara knew he had always been a poor friend in that regard, and frankly, he did not understand very well how any words could make him feel closer to Anka than he did when she held his hand and smiled at him, but he would try. 

Plus, it was selfish, Gaara knew it, but he dearly hoped his friend might come to love his village and the people in it. Maybe that way Anka would come back, and soon.

“It was great. They are nice people.” She smiled briefly. “It just feels a bit weird meeting them all so suddenly.”

Her admission puzzled him. He had never pegged her as the shy type, not with how they had become friend. Surely, it wouldn’t be different with her family?

“You met me suddenly.” Gaara flatly said.  _ Did it feel weird then? _

For some reason, this made her chuckle. It was not mean, or made him feel bad in any way.  Gaara was starting to think there were few things that could dispel his doubts quite as well as this very sound.

“You were a cute boy from a promised land. Meeting you felt like destiny.”

Her smirk then was more than contagious. It was infectious. He could feel it pulling at his cheeks like sweet sourness, yet without leaving a taste on his tongue. Instead, his cheeks grew warm like they often did in her presence, and he looked away as his lips betrayed him into a tiny, happy smile.

He could live with that answer.

Unfortunately, Gaara had to get back to his duties. Still, the easy companionship filling the silence of his office soothed his mind, and before long, the Kazekage had found his usual work rhythm. From time to time, he would check on his friend, hoping the tedious work wouldn’t bore her, but she had found his collection of cacti on a shelf nearing his desk and seemed determined to give each of them some attention, tracing between their thorns with her fingertips.

She was beautiful.

When  Gaara next looked at her, sooner than he would like to admit, she was fiddling with something he could not see, that she had obviously found among the plants she had previously been observing. It did not take more than her soft expression and a couple of seconds for him to figure out what. His office was tidy and hardly decorated; he remembered what he had put in that corner of the room some weeks before. He would walk past it, every day, and never failed to gaze at it, when watering his cacti -which was something he insisted on doing himself. Cacti were low enough maintenance, so it was surprisingly easy to keep them alive. It pleased him, in an almost therapeutic way, to know he could take care of living things.

“I could fix it for you.” He renewed the offer he had made in his letter, putting his pen down on the desk.

Anka started at his voice, as if brought back to reality from wherever her dreamer’s mind had wandered. As he got up to walk to her, his paper now laying forgotten underneath his pen, yearning for his signature, Gaara could swear he saw her cheeks color slightly. 

“You don’t have to do it now.” Her gaze darted to his desk. “I wouldn’t want to distract you.”

Gaara thought for moment, but there was no correct way to tell his friend she was a most welcome distraction. He would either appear desperately unhappy with his life or sound like Kankurô when a pretty kunoichi addressed him –and always regretted doing so, strangely enough.

He would not make her regret spending time with him by calling her a pretty distraction.

“It will only take an instant.” He reassured her instead.

Hesitantly, Anka pulled the other part of his broken old gift from her pocket, holding it out for him. It was smoothed all around, as if she had rubbed it often, which he knew to be the case. At some point the day before, she had admitted to taking it often with her when she knew she would face stressful situation, and that fiddling its pleasant roughness helped relax her when she had to think quick.

His heart had felt warm at the admission.

Rather than taking the big piece from her hand, he simply willed the fragment to adjust itself in the crack it had left in the other.  Then, he covered her hand with both of his; one holding her own in place as the other hid the sand gem from her sight . There was no real reason behind his gesture, other than the fact that he liked the feeling of her skin against his. She must have felt it too, for Anka’s gaze shot to his own pale eyes.

When he  withdrew his hand that was hiding the desert rose, revealing it without breaking eye contact, the gem was whole once again; and a strange pride resonated inside.

“Thank you.” Her voice was no louder than a whisper, and her eyes didn’t stray from his to even look at the gift.

His right hand was still hovering beneath hers, barely brushing hers, when the door opened brusquely. Anka startled at the sound of the door banging on the wall, removing her hand from his.  Gaara frowned, immediately feeling its loss.

In entered a grey-bearded man  Gaara knew all too well, especially since becoming  Kazekage . Anka took a step back from him, bowing her head in respect. Her knowledge of  Suna customs may be limited, but she had to have recognized the traditional white dress of the doctor.

Gaara had known Head Medic Saari  Shima for most of his life, though he had never talked to him before being named  Kazekage . As a child, sentient sand tended to protect him from the slightest dangers, and so,  Gaara had never been afflicted with any physical injury. Up until that fateful day when he carved the kanji onto his forehead, and despite the many attempts commanded by his father, never had his blood been shed.  Gaara did not remember ever being sick either, and so, he had never been brought to see the family doctor.

When the disappearance and likely death of his father had been confirmed, and he had suddenly become the most important person in Suna, the doctor had been ready to resign if the new Kazekage asked him to. But Saari had taken care of his family since his father had become chief of the military; and even though Rasa was never nearly as harsh with Temari and Kankurô as he had been with his younger son, he had not been the most tender father. Gaara was never gifted in evaluating the bonds of others, but he knew his siblings to have many fond memories with the family doctor. Found family was a thing, apparently, and he had not wanted to hinder their contact with the father figure Saari was to them. Instead, when Kankurô would sometimes call for a family dinner; Gaara was never surprised to regularly find Saari seated at the table with them.

With time, he had even learnt to respect the old doctor, and trust him enough to share the weaknesses of his failing body with him. Saari was quick and efficient, and though in his presence, he lacked the affection he regarded  Gaara’s siblings with, he was humorous and generally nice to be around. In the mess of politics and private interests that was the  Kazekage’s life, Head Medic Saari was neutral and earnest, which made him one of the rare overall agreeable persons in his life as  Kazekage .

“Lord Kazekage.” The man saluted formally in a bow fit for the head of military  Gaara guessed he was.

His gaze then fell on the kunoichi from Konoha, and he raised an eyebrow, nodding quickly in response to her bow. He then reported his attention on the younger man, his polite smile tight with irritation. 

“Kankurô has informed me you wished to cancel your appointment. Now, I understand the appeal of having a lady’s company” he exaggerated a bow towards the kunoichi, who cracked a smile in response. “Rather than your doctor’s...”

Gaara did not like where the man was going, but thankfully, the man’s speech was interrupted when another familiar person barged in the room, out of breath.

“Why are you so fast.” Kankurô swore, panting and leaning on the door. “I told you the Kazekage was not to be disturbed.”

The puppet master seemed to recognize the young woman just then, as he smiled guiltily. He had obviously tried his best to warn them in time. Gaara forgave him, knowing better than most how quick his appointed medic could be.

“Busy indeed.” The man scoffed, crossing his arms.

“Saari.” Gaara’s voice held a warning, a line not to cross.

As he was about to politely explain he was not, in fact, available at this moment, Anka raised her hands in surrender, and offered them an amused smile.

“I’ll just head out.”

He helplessly watched her respectfully bow to Saari, before walking out of the room, bypassing Kankurô, who was still standing awkwardly at the entrance of the office.

Gaara wished he could call her back in, but the reasonable part of him, the part that still remembered the papers he had left unsigned on his desk in favor of basking in her presence, knew it was best to let his head medic tend to him.

Kankurô left the office discreetly, walking backwards and closing the door to give them some privacy.

“I apologize for the scene, Lord Kazekage.” The man relaxed once they were left alone in the room. “But you have specifically instructed me to never accept any excuse from you to delay your appointments.”

As if sensing his master’s slight vexation –damn his past self’s foresight turning against him-, the doctor allowed himself to smile in hearty amusement.

“She is pretty, though.”

When Gaara wished a good day to his medic, he was still trying to compose himself after the mortification of being caught putting “a pretty girl” before his health. The Kazekage himself was surprised by how easily he had discarded his responsibilities: but there was something in the way Saari had put it that made it sound differently. The playful gleam in the older man’s eyes made it sound almost shameful. Almost dirty. 

He knew Anka was  _ pretty _ . She was his friend; of them maybe the dearest. He had just gotten her back, and it felt like just seeing her after all these years, seeing how she had grown and matured... It was a bit overwhelming in itself. 

The way Saari had called her a  _ pretty girl _ ,  Gaara had felt weird inside. His heart had started racing in guilty discomfort. She was much more than just a pretty girl; he knew that well. Was acknowledging, no;  _ liking  _ her appearance disrespectful? It certainly felt so. 

Were friends supposed to feel this way? Gaara did not know, and while he would usually go to his siblings for friendship advices, this felt weirdly too personal. He was afraid of what they would say. He feared of the way they would look at him, and at her. If they found it to be distasteful, he wasn’t sure he could stand the shame. 

Maybe it would be best to ask her if she minded. Anka had proven to be patient and understanding with him. She hadn’t resented him for the dream –even though such things were beyond his conscious thoughts. She was good.

Decided that he would talk to her about this, the Kazekage opened the door to look for his friend, hoping she hadn’t strayed too far from his office. 

Gaara welcomed the sight of her with both relief and inexplicable irritation. She was leaning on the wall of the corridor, chuckling at a story  Kankurô was telling her. The younger brother felt strangely sick to his stomach, not liking the instinctive thoughts his mind was feeding him; the kind of primal thoughts he had not had since his separation from Shukaku.

He hated the relief that came when he noticed her smile was littler than the open  ones she shared with him all the time, her posture less relaxed, her eyes less focused.

Almost immediately, she noticed him peeking through the door, and excused herself from his brother. Gaara caught Kankurô’s amused gaze and playful smile, which was only accentuated by his face paint, and immediately the guilt and racing heart came back. He did not know what his older brother thought; but his cocky composure and patronizing air made him feel shameful for wanting to be alone with his friend, who was a girl and who was pretty. 

“I’m sorry.” Gaara wasn’t sure exactly why he was apologizing; for Saari’s interruption, for leaving her alone with his brother, for thinking she was pretty or for the dream he could not yet manage to forget. 

With a sigh, he seated himself back on his desk, determined to finish his work efficiently, so that he could have some real time with her, and get her out of his probably boring office. Maybe he should have let her with Kankurô; surely, his brother would have been more entertaining.

“No worries.” She reassured him with her pacifying smile, the kind he had only ever seen her give him. 

They soon found their former places,  Gaara at his desk, scrutinizing papers and enjoying her presence; Anka keeping him quiet company, looking at his papers and rare decorations with mild interest.

“ Gaara ...” She called his name, drawing his attention at the end of a particularly complex treaty he was supposed to overseer.

Her gaze was oddly serious. Though Gaara was not one to drink, and had never indulged in alcohol to the point of losing his rationality, he felt somewhat sobered by the intensity in her eyes.

“Kankurô told me about your condition. Your heart...”

_ Weak.  _ She looked at him and saw  _ weakness _ . His throat tightened with the overwhelming need to cut her off; so that she would not put the truth into words. It would be too real coming from her.

“Later.” He managed to choke out before she could go on.

The concern in her eyes was both heart-warming and disgusting. 

“But Gaara, I...” She tried again, but he did not want her to say it out loud.

It would taste like failure.

“I said later.” His voice came out curt, louder than he had intended for it to be, and for an instant, he saw a flash of hurt in her eyes. 

He closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose, suddenly feeling much older than he was. This was his Kazekage voice. He had never wanted to use it with his friend, it had just circled out of his control, out of the irrational fear that anyone would think any less of him who once powerful was now fundamentally  _ weak _ .

He cleared his throat, and lowered his voice without taking his eyes off the paper in front of him, though he could not manage to decipher a single word of it now.

“Please. I have to work. We can talk about... About this, later.”

From the corner of his eyes, he saw her nod, but did not dare evaluate her emotions after his outburst.

For a long time, he just stared at the pile of documents in front of him, breathing evenly, trying to understand the urge that had overcome him. He mindlessly read the scriptures in front of him and took notes, all the while trying to process the guilt of snapping at his friend.

When he turned to her, apologies on the tip of his tongue, Anka was nodding off, head resting on her crossed arms and mouth ever so slightly opened. An irrepressible smirk escaped him despite the heavy guilt inside, as he once again noted with relief that some things never seemed to change.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Our boy is insecure, please give him hugs.
> 
> About the whole "pretty girls" thing, it may sound counter intuitive that Gaara would rather approach Anka directly about being attracted to her rather than talk about it to his siblings...  
> I just feel like having had very few people around him when he was growing up, his socialisation (as in the integration of social norms in his behavior) would be different. Gaara wouldn't be too nervous to talk to Anka about his attraction towards her, simply because he wouldn't know he's supposed to feel nervous confessing such a thing (especially to her).  
> His only worry is that his attraction would not conform to the idea of friendship he is trying his best to follow. Cheeky grins and teasing gazes are unsettling to him for that reason; they make him feel like maybe there's something wrong with him.
> 
> Anyway ! Have a nice week you all !  
> As always, kudos and comments are more than welcome ;D


	5. Moonlit Remembrances

When the  Kazekage finished his work, and the healer awoke from her nap, they did not address his... lapse. The sun was starting to set in the sky, and Anka had expressed her growing hunger for the good foods they could find at the festival.  Gaara had indulged her, having not yet done an appearance in the streets for the occasion. It embarrassed him a bit to put on his  Kazekage robe and hat to walk in the streets with his friend; as amusing as she thought it was.  Her smile made it worth it, though, and so  Gaara endured it with no words.

They had spent some time roaming the streets, which were illuminated by lanterns and decorations. The festival of the Southern Winds marked the last days of summer, and the return of the most vigorous sandstorms. Children would wear disguises and  adults bright colors; to show they were not afraid of the storms to come. Traditionally, it was one last occasion for families to feast together out in the open air, before the season of storms called for staying inside during days, sometimes weeks at a time. It was also the time of the year where the most weddings happened, considering the decreasing heat and halt in serious sandstorms.

More than once during their little walk around the decorated streets, was Gaara presented with a newly married couple to honor with his benediction, for good luck’s sake. He complied every time with an awkward nod in the newlyweds’ direction, and words of congratulation for their happiness. 

Later, as they laid on a sand hill watching the stars, far above the hustle and bustle and lights of Sunagakure, Anka teased him about it.

“You looked as comfortable as a house cat in the Forest of Death.”

Gaara felt his ears become warm, something he noticed was starting to become an annoying habit of his in her presence. It was like whatever she said was heard directly by his weak, weak heart and his skin reacted before he could even think.

“I am not an expert in these matters.” He admitted, and he could have sworn he felt her chuckle resonate between his ribs. 

Even if he was not comfortable with what transpired every year when he appeared at the festival, it felt good to laugh with Anka about it. He hadn’t stumbled upon his words this year, which was an improvement he readily credited to her presence next to him. It gave him the courage and peace of mind he usually lacked when it came to interacting with his people.

“You could have fooled me.” Anka poked his ribs as she was lying next to him. “After all, I can distinctly remember you sneaking into my room at night on several occasions.”

If Gaara thought his cheeks were warm before, they felt positively burning at this point. He sat up instantly to look into her eyes as he was about to express his most sincere apologies, only to find tender amusement in her gaze.

He exhaled and shook his head with a small smile. She had said that on purpose, he knew. She was mischievous like this; but what did she say that wasn’t true? If she remembered these times fondly enough to joke of it, he would never complain.

“I cannot believe I did that.” He laid down on the sand again, avoiding looking at her, because even though the events they were referring to had happened years before, he had not had the presence of mind to be mortified then; and so, he more than made up for it now.

Anka laughed freely, which was another thing he found charming. There was no restraint in her emotions, no unease in the way she would express her amusement, sadness or concern. He could scarcely smile without wondering whether that was an  appropriate response or not;  let alone feel when he was supposed to laugh.

His rare chuckles were always light and so quickly gone; mere ghosts of hers, only ever witnessed by his siblings.

When he dared look her way again, Anka was watching him. He immediately felt his heartbeat quicken, as he wondered what she was thinking to have such tenderness in her gaze, a gaze she was directing at him. Whatever it was, she looked happy. Maybe he could ask her now.

“Would it bother you, if I thought you were beautiful?” He blurted out, before the particulars of how to admit such a thing to a pretty friend who is also a girl could confuse him out of asking her.

Anka’s eyebrows shot up, and her cheeks darkened, but the smile remained on her lips, and the happiness in her eyes.  Immediately, the foreign tension in his shoulders relaxed.

“Would it bother you, if I thought you were?” She shot back without hesitation, her tone light, as if she had just made a remark on the weather.

His mouth felt dry, and he thought for a moment. Did she think of him that way? If so, she did not seem ashamed of it, the way he felt when Saari had called him out on his admiration of her. In fact, Gaara found he did not mind the thought of being appreciated in that respect by his oldest friend. It was a rather nice feeling.

“No. I... I think I may like it.” He admitted bashfully, because she hadn’t exactly  _ said _ it, but she had certainly let it on. 

When she only nodded, a warm feeling bloomed inside his chest, and when he brought his hand to his heart, as if on instinct, it was beating strongly. There were no words to properly describe the relieved contentment he felt. He still did not fully understand from where his earlier embarrassment and shame had come from; but at least, he now knew he did not have to live with this hollow guilt.

Anka thought he was beautiful. Gaara did not know exactly what to do with this information, but a private part of him, deep inside; the selfish side of him who took pleasure in little things and had put her before his duties; this secret part was strangely satisfied. Almost... happy.

He could live with it.

The night was long since fallen and the moon was quite high when Gaara fumbled with the keys to access his suite in the Kazekage’s building, all too conscious of the presence following behind him.

It wasn’t his idea.

In the few years he had been  Kazekage now, never had  Gaara brought anyone in his quarters, apart from that time Temari had fallen quite sick while  Kankurô was on a mission, and the younger brother had invited her to spend the few days of her recovery in his room, where he knew he would not sleep anyway. He had not by any mean  _ cared _ for her in the traditional sense of the word; even sick as a dog, Temari could take care of herself. Plus, at the time,  Gaara had no idea how one is supposed to properly  _ look after _ someone. He had only kept an eye on her, and brought her food when she was hungry; nothing heroic, he knew well. Still, she had been grateful, and thus  Gaara guessed it was already something.

His room was poorly decorated, his walls neutral and barely a couple of trinkets on an otherwise naked shelf. No one came in this room; he barely did himself, when he was too exhausted to stay awake and rational through another night of paperwork.

This, of course, did not escape his guest’s keen eye.

“Gaara, your room is... actually, it is kind of sad.” Anka looked at him with what looked like pity, even though she did not look the slightest bit surprised. “No wonder you never come to sleep in here.”

Her voice was soft and though she was criticizing his lodgings, it did not feel like she was laughing at him. Surely, she had figured he simply did not know better. Apart from hers, and the room filled with toys he had been shut away in when he was a child, he had never been in a real “bedroom”, having never needed one in the first place.  The only exception would have been  Kankurô's room, which he had visited on one occasion, but did not count as such, seeing as it doubled as a surprisingly neat puppet workshop.

He knew of course most people kept their belongings and clothes in this room; but growing up, and once his father had decided he was not worth the effort anymore, Gaara hadn’t had much. As to his clothing, his official garbs were kept in a separate room, where various employees would take a greater care of them than he could. His civilian and ninja clothes fit in a single big dresser.

The best feature of the room was obviously the very large bed in its center. It was soft, and covered in expensive red-tinted covers, fit for the cold nights of Sunagakure.

Not knowing how to answer to his friend, weirdly nervous and excited at the same time to have her here in the place where he was most vulnerable, Gaara kept silent. He watched her watching his room, before sitting on the bed, testing its softness.

“Nothing wrong to say about the bed, though. You should sleep so well here.”

Gaara frowned, as that was precisely the problem. Sometime after Anka had reminded him of the two times he had come into her room to ‘sleep’ beside her, she had asked him about his sleep. She had been curious to learn he had  _ literally  _ never slept before  Shukaku had been taken from him, and that it hadn’t been a hyperbole when he had told her couldn’t sleep, at the time.

She had then asked him if he slept well now, and  Gaara had been honest in his answer, resulting in Anka asking if there was  anything he knew to relax him enough to make him rest. 

His answer had been quick, and he had not had the presence of mind to be embarrassed before they were actually in his room.  _ You. You make me feel that way _ .

Gaara had looked at her then, and in her eyes, he had read an idea. An exhilarating, frightening idea.

None of them voiced it. Instead, he had gotten up and she had followed. They had wandered the streets towards his residence, and for the most part, his heart had beat with a good kind of anticipation. Only when he had opened the door to his quarters for her, under the bemused gaze of one of the nins in charge of his security, did the concept of them spending the night together fully settled. 

“Won’t your family be worried not to see you come back?” He asked, suddenly remembering she hadn’t come alone in Sunagakure.

In the seconds before Anka could answer, a weird feeling pooled in his belly. Some anxious part of him was hoping she couldn’t stay; the other, dreading she would leave. Gaara was not exactly new to anxiety; the management of his village being his primary source of worries. Thankfully, his desire for her company currently outweighed his uneasy will for her to leave him in control of his emotions.

“They know I can handle myself. And Grandma knows you are an honorable gentleman who wouldn’t let me get hurt.”

Her voice was strong with confidence in her words, and her high esteem of his person made him feel good enough to sit on the bed next to her. 

It was not enough, though, to fool his friend.

“Gaara.” He liked the way she spoke his name. It was soft, lacking the dripping respect his villagers imbued it in, yet laced with more affection than he knew a word could hold. “I can go home if you don’t feel comfortable.”

Taking a deep breath, Gaara shook his head. His judgement could come back in the morning; Gaara did not want to part from her. She cared. She was good.

“I think I just need to rest.” He honestly dodged her question, his smile strained and his eyes tired.

When they laid on his comfortable bed, a bit later after he found her a large shirt and shorts to sleep in and he changed in thin fabrics, Anka closed her eyes. She was facing him, one hand under the pillow she was resting on, the other somewhere between them, at a respectful distance from his body.

Gaara watched her for a long moment. He presence was surreal, and it certainly felt like in a blink, she would be gone. Never been here. The next morning, he would wake up alone and drenched in sweat from a remembrance of his past failures; faces he deprived of life, or masked  nins plotting behind his back. Maybe he would be a lonely, helpless child once again, while his village was in danger. Anka would not be there. She would still be in Konoha, barely remembering his existence.

“Gaara?”

Only when he opened his eyes, did he notice he had closed them.

“Are you okay? You were breathing quite hard here.”

Almost mechanically, the young man nodded, shaking his head slightly to dissipate the bad thoughts. She always asked how he was feeling. It was nice, even though he rarely was able to answer. Half the time anyone asked -mostly his siblings and Baki-, he was not sure himself of the answer.

And Gaara hated lying.

He moved, feeling stiff and tensed still from his haunting anticipations; subconsciously getting closer to his friend in the process.

“May I hold you?” He whispered instead, afraid of the words yet yearning for her soothing touch.

Anka didn’t waste a second to open her arms to him. Slowly, he crawled between them, getting closer still until his arms were securely around her waist, and his nose buried in her shoulder. Her own arms wrapped tightly around him, a hand lazily playing in his hair. Anka spoke softly in return.

“Always.” She said, her word blown gently against his scar.

Much to his chagrin, for he would have liked to enjoy her closeness for far longer; Gaara fell asleep the next moment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one is a bit shorter than the others, but it comes with good news !  
> I'm almost done writing the last chapter, so I'll be updating more often now.
> 
> As always I hope you liked this one, if you did, please feel free to leave a comment ! They always make me feel happy and motivated.  
> See you on Wednesday for the next chapter !


	6. Advices Of Some Kind

When Gaara woke up, he did not immediately open his eyes. He was warm, and comfortable, clinging to his sand which was pulled flush against him. Except his sand was warm and breathing, and somehow drawing patterns on his back. 

He had just had the most pleasant of dreams. 

Holding onto it for as long as he could, not wanting to let go, Gaara kept his eyes shut just for a moment longer, nuzzling closer to the soft fabric he was resting his cheek on. 

A low rumbling against his ear brought him back to reality. His eyes protested against the low light, but widened when he realized his improvised pillow was definitely not sand. 

“Good morning.” Anka’s voice was just about the best thing he had ever heard upon waking up. 

It bested the usual silence of dawn and the panting of his own panicked breathing any day. 

Still, when he noticed the almost desperate way he was clinging onto her, Gaara gingerly loosened his grip on his friend and moved backwards awkwardly. 

“Slept well?” 

He smiled sheepishly her way when the last dare of sensations of his dreams dissipated. Anka’s hair was tousled and her -his- shirt crinkled where he had rested his head. He had the fleeting memory of a similar look on her in this familiar, painless dream he had just let go of. But already it was evading him, only the idea of a golden light remaining. 

“I did. Thank you.” He mindlessly answered, chasing any memory he could recover. 

It had been so long since he had last been gifted with a dream. If he could only remember some more of it… 

“Gaara, there was something I wanted to talk to you about.” 

Preoccupied with the image of her flushed cheeks and bright eyes, the Kazekage nodded without too much thought as to what she wanted to address him about. 

“Kankurô told me about your heart.” 

His gaze fell on her lips, and something shifted inside, a quiet yearning he had felt once before; so it was that dream again. 

“Why didn’t you want to tell me about it?” 

The slight hurt in her voice pulled Gaara out of his reverie. 

Anka’s gaze was serious and worried; it was about his outburst from the previous day, or his non-disclosure of his ailment the day before then. He wished he could lie and say he just forgot, but she deserved more than excuses. 

“I didn’t want you to find out.” His voice was low, and he did not dare look at her. “When we discussed my death… You looked sad. I did not want you to feel worse.” 

He did not deserve her compassion. The least he could offer her, in return for the grace she had shown him so many times before, was some peace of mind. She deserved to reconnect with her friend and not have to worry about this. 

She sat up as well, and put her hand on his shoulder in an appeasing gesture Gaara wasn’t sure he liked. Not that he could dislike her contact in any way; just feeling the light pressure of her palm made his whole arm feel weird. A startlingly good kind of weird, very different yet not unlike the relief he used to feel at her touch, when Shukaku still inhabited him. 

“You don’t have to spare my feelings. I’d rather know if you are unwell.” Anka squeezed his shoulder gently. 

His pale gaze caught hers, and he read nothing but a hint of worry and earnest care in them. He could see her point, of course. Even then, in times of increasing doubts on his possible recovery from Shukaku’s forceful extraction, it felt like the only thing he was in control of was who _knew_. Kankurô had meant well in telling her, Gaara knew, but it had not been his information to disclose. 

“It makes me feel weak.” He admitted, looking straight into her eyes. “I hate that.” 

His quiet admission felt bitter on his tongue. It was hardly something you tell the person who shows you love when no one else can. He was supposed to be strong, to protect his village and the people he cared about. Anka might not really be a part of the former, but the latter she certainly was. 

Anka did not seem to share his view on the subject, for the next moment, she was pulling him into an embrace; such a curious reward for his vulnerability. 

“Would you like it if I checked your heart?” 

Her hushed proposition was met with little resistance on his part. Anka was a healer, and his friend. She had been there when there had been little in him he now found to be worthy of her affection. Now that he felt a little bit prouder of whom he had become, and that he felt a bit more worthy of his siblings’ care and the love Anka showed him, he trusted her completely. 

“If it pleases you.” 

Anticipating her demand, he slowly lifted his shirt above his head, exposing his pale skin and thin muscles. He kept the removed garment in his hands, waiting for her to examine him. 

After a couple of seconds without action on her part, Gaara turned towards her, and couldn’t fight a little pleased smile when he noticed the redness on her cheeks as she was looking at his back. She had called him beautiful, he then remembered. He saw her eyes trail on his ribs and abs appreciatively; and the fluttering of his heart in response surprised the Kazekage. Her gaze was not medical the way Saari’s would watch him; yet he did not recognize the same appalling feeling he sometimes had when he saw a stranger looking him up with hungry eyes. 

He also knew himself not to be the most built nin there was. There was also that, despite all his efforts to eat regularly, he still suffered his meals more than he appreciated them. It showed. Anka didn’t comment on it. He was beautiful, she had said, and that was enough for him. 

“I am going to put my hands on your chest and back to feel your heart with my chakra. Is it okay for you?” She asked his consent before anything. 

Her voice was professional. In the way it flowed, he could tell she had already done this kind of consultations many times. It was rich of the many encounters that had made her the healer she was today; the elderly, the young and the nin. 

“Yes.” 

It was not. Or rather, it was; but as much as he thought himself ready for her touch, he wasn’t. For when her palm was gently placed flat against the center of his chest, the other similarly situated on his back, Gaara felt his breath escape him. Between her hands, he felt frail, like Kankurô’s first puppet had been. Then again, Anka’s touch had always been soothing. Pleasant warmth was now surrounding his heart, and Gaara found he did not care how weak he was in front of her. 

“Is your heart always beating so fast?” His friend wondered aloud, shifting her hand to feel it better. 

Her innocent question prompted a little smile on his lips, as he shook his head and breathed deeply, to try to slow its quick rate. 

“No.” 

Gaara didn’t develop. He didn’t need to. The quiet ‘oh’ that escaped her lips was sign enough that she understood what he meant. Anka didn’t say another word, proceeding with her examination, but when she pulled her hand from him and listened to his heartbeat with her ear, her cheek felt hot against his chest, and she couldn’t hide the pleased, shy smirk she sported. 

They were in this position when the door to the Kazekage’s room opened to reveal a concerned Temari calling his name. 

“Gaara, you should already be…” 

When she took in the sight before her, words seemed to fail the oldest of the Sand Siblings, as she started to stutter out some excuses. Anka straightened herself, removing her hands from him in the process, obviously quite amused at the blonde’s embarrassment. Gaara saw her slight grin, and despite his ears feeling warm for some reason, couldn’t help but be amused himself by his sister’s mortified expression. 

Temari quickly turned away, saying loudly from the other side of the door that she would come by later. 

When she was gone, Anka let herself laugh out loud, a hearty and infectious laugh Gaara liked very much. More reserved in his own reactions, he contented himself in watching her laugh for the two of them, when he recalled his sister’s uncharacteristic silence. 

“Oh, Gaara…” his friend patted his still bare shoulder affectionately. “You better expect congratulations before the end of the day, because your sister definitely thinks she has interrupted something.” 

Her tone was teasing, light-hearted. Gaara didn’t ask why congratulations, knowing it would break the moment and her hilarity. He had a pretty good idea of what Temari thought she had walked in on them doing. Though his education on the matter was seriously lacking, and so for obvious reasons; he was no complete stranger to the concept of sex. However, why would anyone acknowledge his having experienced it, with cheer no less, was still unclear. 

Anka wiped her eyes, and brilliantly smiled at him, as she tried to compose herself. 

“Shall we get back to your heart?” 

As it turns out, Gaara did not meet with either of his siblings before Kankurô forcibly moved him from his office to have lunch with Temari. The puppeteer had, in the process, spilled what was left of a teacup onto an important report the Kazekage was in the middle of reading, but Gaara had let it slide. 

He was, for lack of better words, in a very good mood. 

Not only had he slept better than he had in years, but Anka had stated that upon further inspection, his heart might not be a lost cause. She could still reach it with her chakra, and in theory, she should be able to help with its recovery. That was, in itself, better news than Saari’s tentative treatments. 

When he had voiced that, his friend hadn’t been surprised. According to her grandmother, the Rukushika Clan had always provided the best healers to serve the Kazekages, being the only Sunan Clan gifted with such extensive healing skills. Up until Kadja’s banishment, that is; after that unfortunate event, they had refused to supply any more of their knowledge in the service of their leaders, and had kept to working in the public hospitals as a matter of principles. Saari was a good man and a good doctor; but he was no healer. 

Anka had then left, to go find her family and spend some time with them at the festival. Gaara would have liked to be able to advise her on the different stands and places she could visit, but he had never been welcome himself at the festival while young, and his Kazekage duties the last few years had prevented him from enjoying it as any Suna citizen should. Anka hadn’t minded, as she had a few distant younger cousins who could guide her during the festivities. 

They had agreed to meet later in the day, to spend some more time together. She would have come to ‘hang out’ in his office had he asked, he knew. However, the reasonable part of him had remembered the few meetings he could not delay further, and they had settled for seeing each other in the evening. 

But back to Kankurô. His older brother seemed to be in a massive good mood, too. There was a spring in his step, and his facepaint only accentuated the grin he was wearing. 

It didn’t take too long for them to get to the private dining room he and his siblings often ate in together. Temari was already here; to her credit, she had seemed to recover well from her embarrassment of the morning. 

As soon as the door closed, Kankurô gave the redhead a strong slap in the back, effectively startling him. 

“My little brother, growing so fast!” He bellowed, as he mimicked wiping a tear from his eye, ungracefully smearing his facepaint in the process. “I am so proud.” 

Temari rolled her eyes, though her cheeks colored a little. Again with the congratulations, Gaara noticed, confused. In hindsight, it might have been a good thing Anka had told him to be prepared for them; otherwise, he would truly have had no idea what his brother was on about. 

“I don’t know what you mean.” He simply answered, distancing himself from the possible future manly-slaps-on-the-back his brother might have in store for him. 

Kankurô's eyes glowed with mischief. 

“Come on, Temari told me she saw you two being _pleasantly engaged_ this morning.” 

Immediately, their older sister bristled, embarrassed to be put on the spot like this. 

“I just said his girlfriend was with him in his room, seriously!” 

Anka was not his girlfriend; though the distinction seemed to have eluded his sister. Likewise, the puppeteer didn’t mind the details, as he crossed his arms in utter confidence. 

“Well, yeah? Gaara’s my brother, of course he fu...” 

" _Kankurô!_ ” Temari interrupted him, positively outraged. 

On second thoughts, Gaara wondered if he could not just leave them to their follies. Surely, at this point, they wouldn’t notice his absence. Still, it was kind of amusing to see them bicker, even though he was the current subject of their silly debate. 

He could have been upset they were thus talking about his hypothetical affair, but knowing it wasn’t true just brought out the fondness he had for his, sometimes idiotic, siblings. 

“If I may?” 

Both of them turned towards him. 

“Anka spend the night here as my friend. Temari walked in on her examining my heart, since she has been made aware” Gaara looked pointedly at his brother, “of my condition.” 

There was a moment of silence, in which Kankurô sighed and crossed his arms in some kind of weird disappointment Gaara chose not to acknowledge. Temari blushed a little, no doubt embarrassed to have been mistaken in her assessment of the situation. 

After a quick apology, which Gaara disregarded, she let her head rest on one of her arms, looking at him with a very characteristic playful smirk. 

“You two seem pretty close.” 

Gaara only nodded, sitting himself at the head of the table, where food had already been disposed by his siblings in prevision to his arrival. It was something he insisted on them doing by themselves; though he knew some employees could take care of attending to their meal, as he _was_ the Kazekage after all, he did not want to bother them, and usually brought food from the kitchen by himself, or had his siblings do it if they were to eat together –which happened quite often. On occasion, Baki would join them, which was always pleasant, seeing as Gaara’s relationship with the Jönin had much improved in the past years. 

Kankurô joined him, sitting on his left and in front of Temari. 

“Always have, remember when she used to come looking for him in Konohagakure?” 

Temari chuckled, and Gaara put his glass to his lips to hide his fond smile. It was indeed some of his favorite memories; though almost every moment he had spent in Anka’s company back in the day fell into that category. 

“At some point Baki just stopped following you, you were giving him too much work walking around all the damn time.” The puppeteer recalled with humor. 

It was the first time the siblings dared to bring up the subject of his friend on such occasions. In the years before, as all communications between the two had been cut and they had parted on uncertain terms, Temari and Kankurô hadn’t dared address it; not wanting their little brother to feel bad about his first friend. 

Now that they had reconnected, and seemed to be getting on quite well again, it was finally time for some long overdue teasing. 

“And when you came back at the apartment, you would always shut yourself in your room like the world wasn’t worth it.” Temari added, chuckling. 

Kankurô snickered at the reminiscence, pointing to his younger brother with his chopstick. 

“Gaara still does it, mind you, only now he brings her home as well...” 

There was something implied in his statement that flustered Gaara, even though he knew his brother to be joking. Temari seemed amused, though she did send a warning look to Kankurô, probably judging he was going a bit too far. 

“The point is,” the older girl took pity on her youngest brother, who was until them just watching them have their fun, “we were wondering if you two were more than just friends.” 

Gaara swallowed, to give himself a bit more time to think about her inquiry. Her formulation was confusing. There were many talents in communication he found he still lacked. In images and euphemisms, if anything else, the Kazekage still had much to learn. In relationships as well, he mused, if that was what they were hinting about. 

“I don’t know. I don’t think so.” 

Under their expecting gazes, Gaara felt younger, unsure. They spoke with certainty and knowledge of what they were thinking about. Everything in his friendship with Anka was tentative, every answer he gave her, every gesture he made her way; every appreciation of hers towards him. If she noticed, she was patient, and never made him feel inadequate for taking time to answer her simple questions, for not knowing altogether how he felt about some things, or for initiating contacts he was not familiar with. 

“But do you think you want to be?” Kankurô pressed on, his mouth half full with rice. 

For once, Temari didn’t call him out on his terrible manners; when Gaara met her gaze, it was curious, though a bit guilty to put him in through the interrogation. 

The redhead found he did not mind it too much. His ears did feel warm, because apparently Anka did not have to be there to have that effect on him. Still, he found it somewhat comforting to know that his siblings would be open to talk about such things. Gaara wasn’t sure he would trust any of Kankurô's advices on anything besides wood-carving, having seen him get slapped in more than one occasion by both men and women; but he knew they would always take the time to answer his questions, should he ask them. 

“How do I know I want that? To be more than friends?” 

Kankurô tilted his chair back –a habit Baki despised ever since the puppet master had cut his head open once as a kid falling from his chair, which the Jönin had then had to explain to the Kazekage– and gave his brother a lopsided grin. 

“Well, you know you want to be more than friends if you want her to...” 

“Kankurô." Temari sent him a warning glare. 

His expression of innocence was tolerable, Gaara supposed, but not enough to make him believe he wasn’t about to say something stupid. 

“I was going to say ‘be close to you all the time’!” 

“Were you?” Frown; unconvinced. 

“No.” Sheepish smile. 

When the four legs of the chair hit the ground, and his smile grew cheekier, his gaze more mischievous, Gaara knew he was up to something. 

“But by all means, Temari, since you’re obviously a specialist and wise of your experience with the Nara guy, how would you...” 

Cutlery clinked as the fan wielding young woman smashed her fists on the table, having gotten up as soon as the words had escaped his mouth to tower over her brother. 

“Shut your mouth if you know what’s good for you.” 

Kankurô raised an eyebrow and his hands in defeat, though his facepaint didn’t hide very well his victorious little smirk. Temari huffed, before sitting down again, Gaara’s presence and inquiry the only thing stopping her from sulking. 

She sighed, before turning towards her youngest brother, who had had the sense to remain passively quiet –if not equally confused, amused and scared at his sister’s fierce reaction. 

“When you love someone _that_ way, you think about them all the time. You miss them when they are not with you, even if you saw them recently, even if they are just on the other side of the room talking to someone else. You want them to be happy, with you preferably. And _yes_ , as Kankurô deems most important, you may want to share some kind of physical intimacy as well, though it is _not_ mandatory.” 

Gaara nodded, too smart to question Temari when she was taking _this_ voice. Only when she was done of her speech, and facing two silent, impressed boys, did she seem to notice her depth of information on the subject was as appreciated as it was unexpected. She blushed and looked away frowning, trying to recover her ‘tough girl’ act before they got used to the closet romantic she had just displayed. 

“But, you know, everyone loves differently, so, no big deal.” 

Despite Temari’s sulking, Gaara could feel the expectation in the gazes they sent him. He wished he could give them an answer, but it was just too soon, and he would need some time to think on what his sister had told him, in the privacy of his solitude. Maybe he could ask Anka. Surely, she too would have some advice for him. 

Gaara tilted his head in his best impression of innocent curiosity. 

“Do you think about the Nara guy all the time?” He asked, every bit aware of the possibility of a plate flying onto his face the next moment. 

There was a second of silence, before Kankurô exploded in unrestrained laughter, and a furious Temari rose up to her feet a second time. 

“This is beside the point!” She howled, her cheeks red, before promptly escaping the room, muttering that she was sister to two grown idiots. 

Thankfully; no plate flew that time. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When Gaara boards the "Annoy Temari" train, haha !  
> I see Temari and Kankurô as playful enough with each other, lots of brotherly/sisterly teasing, since they really only had each other while growing up. Unfortunately, that means Gaara mostly stays out of their fun; but they would be very happy to have Gaara join them in their banter. Even if that means teasing Temari about her crush on Shika !  
> (Anyway I love all of them so much.)
> 
> Next chapter will be posted on Sunday.  
> As always, comments are the writer's fuel and a smile factory ! ;D


	7. White Smoke And Twirling Sand

Gaara was extremely displeased to have to postpone his outing with Anka on the ground of a political emergency. Baki had urged him to cancel any plan he had for the night, in favor of a distress meeting with his closest council members to discuss the latest signs of rebellion against his rule. There had been, in the past few months, a decrease in the attempts on his life, but the unease with some parts of the population hadn’t disappeared, and several anonymous tribunes calling for a destitution of the Kazekage (in the more polite ones) had been found circulating, notably around young nins. People found in possession of these had been interrogated, but they knew shockingly little of the suspected plot.

On some of the papers, they had found messages letting on that the people would accept a new Kazekage of the same blood; hinting at a plot to either put Temari or Kankurô in the metaphorical throne of Suna. Gaara’s siblings had therefore been kindly excused from this emergency meeting and given the night off altogether. The redhead had also asked them to let Anka know he wouldn’t be able to meet her tonight. Knowing the healer, she would probably offer for them to do something or other together. It annoyed him on some level that both his siblings and his friend would have fun while he had to sit through a late-night meeting. Still, the thought of the three most important persons to him getting along made up for it, and he endured the meeting for as long as it took.

What was making the situation more difficult was the secrecy of it all. The common people actually rather liked  Gaara , he knew that very well. The people in the streets, in the shops, from the remote villages. They were prompt to show him the respect he was owed, sometimes even to offer him a kind word of gratefulness for his dedicated work to fix  Suna’s problems. He had done hard work ever since his nomination as  Kazekage to not focus only on the military problems (though gaining back Konoha’s trust and forging new alliances had taken a lot of his time in the first few months) but to also identify the other problems which had brought down Sunagakure from a major village to a weak military state.

He had promoted trade, and arts and crafts, which were an important part of  Suna’s economy, as well as stepped up the financial support to the struggling and even had a new Academy built for the children who wouldn’t become shinobis but still deserved an education.

Common people liked him. The problem lied elsewhere, in the hands of more powerful people who actually  _ had _ the means of ordering assassination attempts and revolts, and did not find Gaara as pliable and open to their  _ suggestions  _ and blatant bribes as they would have liked.

Being aware of that fact, maintaining cordial relationships with a certain number of suspected high dignitaries, and some councilors who had served under Rasa, had become quite hard. Baki, in his pragmatic glory, had evoked the idea of a counter attack, the kind of imprisoning the suspects, or killing every single one of the hired assassins; but Gaara had been clear in his refusal. This was the kind of thing his father would have done, and there were few people in this world  Gaara wanted to look less like than his own father.

Baki could respect that.

Gaara only saw his siblings the next morning, his meeting having ended late in the night. Too unsettled to go to sleep, knowing only nightmares probably awaited him, he had shut himself away in his own office, and done paperwork until the sun rose. 

He only met with Temari and Kankurô at breakfast, in their private dining room, when he emerged from his office. When they saw the rings below his eyes, they didn’t comment; for they were a far more common occurrence than the rested state he had been in the previous day.

They looked tired themselves, something Temari eagerly explained as their dinner with Anka the night before having gone well and ended quite late; though not as late as his own meeting.

“I take it you got along fine?” He asked, seemingly innocently.

_ Do you approve of her? _ Was really what he meant.

He had not had the time nor the will to question their lessons on intimacy the day before, but no matter what he would or would not find, Gaara had come to really value his siblings, and it would hurt him much if they did not like his favorite friend the slightest bit. Gaara knew that Temari, particularly, though elated to see her younger brother happy, had been a bit wary of how quickly they had picked up their old friendship.

She took her role as a big sister quite seriously, and had been justly eager to make her own opinion of the girl, and make sure there were no ulterior motives to her visit in Sunagakure and her sudden closeness to the Kazekage.

“Sure, it was fun.” Kankurô proceeded to brag about all the things she had told them; the same way a child would tell his parents what he had learnt in school that day.

Gaara was relieved that most of these things were old stories he had already heard, or things about her he already knew. He wouldn’t have liked his brother to know more things about his friend than he did.

“I get why you’d be sweet on her.” Temari teased. “She’s pretty, and she knows who she is.”

For some reason, her words stuck.  Gaara didn’t know how to answer, and thus did not utter a word in response, only smiled quickly at her.

“Oh, she did tell us that she would be spending the day visiting with her grandmother.” Kankurô helpfully indicated when he saw Gaara raising to his feet to go back to work. “You are more than welcome to join them at some point.”

After telling his younger brother, from memory, Anka and Kadja’s planning, Kankurô left as well to attend to his own planned morning. Of him and his sister, he was the most frustrated with being left out of the investigation on who might be targeting his brother, and had resolved to have Temari replace him as Gaara’s bodyguard today, while he would tour the Academy and training shinobis to do his best to dispel any anti-patriotic (or, on the contrary, overly patriotic) feeling he might find in their hearts.

Pray he found none.

Gaara did join Anka late that afternoon, as she was touring the last of the stands from the festival. After three days of celebration, it was getting to its end already, and most people would soon get back to work. The streets were still packed, for many wished to enjoy the last day as much as they possibly could. It would have been a hassle to find Anka and her grandmother among them, had the young woman not dressed in a bright golden tunic he saw from far away. 

It was a very typical garb from  Suna , and never had Anka looked more like home to  Gaara . Had he not known her, he could have sworn she belonged to these old families (which he guessed was partly true), and had been born and raised in his village. 

She was radiant.

“Hi!” The healer waved at him from a couple of meters away, when she noticed him approaching; unfortunately, still in his Kazekage wear. 

Making an appearance at a traditional and much celebrated festival had been the only excuse he had found to leave him office early. Baki (whom he had crossed path with) had approved, knowing perfectly well his true intent; but too used to a reclusive Gaara who wouldn't get out from his office to really complain about the change.

“Hi.” He repeated, his voice low, once close enough to her to see the details of the lace on her tunic. 

He then noticed the absence of the second, much older Rukushika.

“Isn’t your grandmother with you?”

Anka crossed her arms and rolled her eyes, pretending to be annoyed but betrayed by her own smile.

“She noticed you coming this way and said she would leave me to my young man.” 

Her chuckle and the implication did something to Gaara, his heart calling him to its attention. Apparently, he wasn’t the only one who faced curious relatives. 

Gaara hesitated before offering her his arm. Pleasantly surprised, Anka gave him a mock curtsy, before putting her hand in the crook of his elbow and letting him take her away from the buzzing crowd. He did not stop to think about how he appeared with a young woman on his arm in front of so many people. The thought was not very pleasant; yet keeping her close through the crowd was. 

They chatted lightly on their way to nowhere in particular, just like they were used to, but this time, something felt odd. Gaara felt observed, and a look at his companion told him she was feeling it as well. Unless her engaging less in the conversation was a direct effect of the way he had stopped answering all of a sudden. 

After a few minutes, he felt her hand tighten once on his arm, and her sweet voice speaking lowly to him, her smile now only a façade that didn’t hide the seriousness and trace of concern in her eyes.

“Keep talking. They won’t show themselves if they think we’re suspicious.”

Swallowing his tension, the Kazekage made idle chat with her, slowly steering them towards an empty back alley that would make whatever would happen, happen far from any passerby. 

Gaara admired the hold Anka had on her nerves, as she laughed out loud and bantered with him, giving off without any trouble the image of a non-sensitive girl. He guessed he still looked tensed and silent, compared to her, which was no great surprise, he supposed, since he always appeared silent and inexpressive. 

A part of him hoped to be wrong, but another just wished it to be over with, and with such frustration, he freed his arm from his partner, before gently pushing her against a nearby wall. Anka looked surprised, and her cheeks certainly felt hot as he cupped them to place a long kiss on her forehead.

When the first explosive parchment was sent their way,  Gaara’s body covered most of her own; his sand taking the brunt of the shock.

The next moment, he turned to block two more explosive kunai, his body tensed and stable as he commanded his sand. So, the snake had finally shown itself. The man was covered in pale orange veils, fit for blending in the crowd and into the warm décor of Sunagakure.

Behind him, Anka seemed to quickly recover from her confusion, obviously understanding the meaning behind his action. Though she had not seemed to be wearing any of her habitual ninja gear –not even her headband, that she nowadays seemed to wear on her upper thigh–, when she next appeared on his side, she was armed with a kunai of her own, and a familiar kind of flask on in her other hand.

Noticing he no longer had the advantage of surprise, and now had not one but two targets, the assassin seemed to decide to retreat, turning his back on the Kazekage to speed towards more crowded places where he would disappear amongst the tapestries and colorful people. Intent on not letting him slip away, Gaara ran after him, sending his sand hurling towards the would-be murderer. Only when the man was immobilized, did he realize it had been too easy. 

A little gasp made him turn back in horror; vaguely conscious of the distinctive sound of a disappearing clone where his now empty sand was uselessly piled.

The man was chuckling to himself, one kunai threatening to cut Anka’s throat, his other hand immobilizing her arm, the one holding the weapon, behind her back.

“My blade is faster than your sand.”

A wave of panic filled Gaara’s heart, and his thoughts froze for a moment. This was new; this he was not prepared for. In showing such tenderness to his friend, if only to make the man on their trail to think them an easy target (while also being in a position to endure most damage that could be dealt to them), the Kazekage had established her as a person he cared deeply about. A weakness of sorts.

He should have protected her. He should have sent her away from him the very moment he had suspected what might happen. He definitely shouldn’t have kept her close through this, stupidly thinking he could make them both safe, just because he had always survived through this before.

“Now, you’re going to do every hand sign I tell you, or your pretty friend  _ will _ get a prettier smile on her throat.”

Looking into Anka’s eyes, Gaara did not see fear. She was looking at him with trust, and confidence. Not one instant did the Kazekage think this confidence might have been at her own abilities rather than his.

As the stranger started to enumerate, the redhead complied. After the fifth sign, Gaara understood where the man was going. 

A Feigning Sleep Technique. Forcing him to fall sleep would render him defenseless against the man, who would then be at his leisure to do what he wanted with his unconscious body. Assassins were rarely men of their words; and he might decide not to let Anka go if Gaara wasn’t there to check his word.

As he was about to voice that fact, hating how powerless the hostage made him, his thoughts racing through his head to find a solution, Anka winked. She lowered her free arm slowly through the next hand sign, before letting a little glass flask fall onto her shoe. The attention of the man behind her was focused solely on him, and so he did not notice when she let the flask quietly slip to the ground next to his leg.

He did feel it, though, when she quickly and forcefully stomped on the fragile glass; freeing impatient pain, hungry for a body to feast upon.

The man understood a second too late; his face contorting into that of a mad man. His eyes rolled back in their socket from the intense, burning pain that made his body jolt, as his mouth was open in a silent cry. His hands dropped his weapons and he dropped to his knees.

Gaara immediately rushed to Anka’s side, abandoning the forms he had been maintaining, barely feeling the loss of wasted chakra over his relief.

When he pulled her against him, adrenaline still running cold through his veins, Gaara felt his embrace a touch too forceful (though he minded not to crush her), but he couldn’t help it. It felt like his heart was making his entire body tremble with each beat. Anka welcomed his touch, discarding her weapon in favor of grabbing onto his shirt, keeping him close to her as she felt his erratic breathing mirror her own.

There they stayed for the next moments, holding onto each other in this narrow back alley, a spasming body silently screaming at their feet.

“Shh, it’s over.” Anka murmured, nuzzling his hair, as  Gaara didn’t seem to calm down. “We’re okay.”

The Kazekage blinked, unable to not see the image of the man threatening to cut her throat, but it seemed engraved behind his eyelids. It had been his fault. He should have been more vigilant. Some friend he was; if she hadn’t had the resource to save herself, she might be dead, in a puddle of her own blood, at his feet.

“It is not okay. I knew what would happen, and I failed to protect you.” Gaara spoke lowly, his voice oddly soft for all of the self-loathing it bore. “I put you in danger instead of sending you away.”

When she heard his words, Anka tried to push him back; but Gaara’s grip was strong as he feared she might leave him here in this alley, angry at his behavior and unwilling to see him anymore before she would go back to Konohagakure in a couple of days. At least there, no one would try to kill her, he guessed.

“Gaara, look at me.” 

When she pushed at his chest again, her hand just above his heart, Gaara realized she simply meant to take a step back to look at him in the eyes. He hesitantly let go of her, and was pleasantly reassured to see his friend did not stray too far; one of her hands coming to cup his cheek. 

“None of what happened is your fault. I’m fine.” Her gaze softened. “I’m not the young girl you have to protect anymore.” 

He breathed deeply, his eyes not straying from hers. After a few seconds, he nodded, and promptly remembered the man they had left writhing on the ground.

The assassin.

Frankly, he did not feel like taking care of him.  Habitually, he showed no remorse in killing his aggressors in self defense, but in front of Anka, it did not feel right. Plus, Baki could use any information they may manage to pry out of him.

Lifting his arm towards the sky,  Gaara commanded the sand to twirl in a certain way he knew the  Anbu in watchtowers nearby would recognize; a code Baki had initiated. At first,  Gaara had been skeptical, more than convinced of his own ability to manage in a fight, but he had then understood that Baki cared to know when his former student was or had been in danger. 

Not a minute later, three masked and armed shinobi appeared next to them, Baki leading them. The veteran squinted his eyes when he caught sight of the man at their feet, but first made sure Gaara was okay. The Kazekage was aware his mentor had known him for long enough to notice how upset he was, but at the moment, did not care.

Anka removed the pain from the man once the Anbu immobilized him, and even though he thought the scum deserved to suffer, his wrath was soothed when she explained a prolonged time suffering intensely might damage his cognitive faculties, and therefore diminish the chance that he would talk.

“Lord Gaara, you should go back to your office. The perimeter might not be safe yet.” Baki nodded towards the military base, speaking with all the authority of a council member.

Before the redhead could protest, intent on spending the rest of the evening how he had anticipated to, Anka put a hand on his arm.

“I think it’s a good idea. I would feel better knowing we are both safe.” She spoke lowly.

With a sigh,  Gaara relented. His chest felt oddly empty as they walked quietly to the building. In his head, the image of his dear friend being threatened played on a loop, and this despite her hand softly holding his.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have no explications for this. Tough day for everyone involved.  
> Maybe I just wanted Gaara to hug someone with everything he has and keep them close until desperation fades into numbness.
> 
> Thank you all for the 100+ kudos and all the lovely comments !  
> It makes me so happy to know people read and like this story. I didn't expect so many people to read an oc fanfic, and I'm thankful every time I get a notification and read your words of encouragement.  
> Anyway, I gotta leave you before I get all sappy.
> 
> Have a wonderful week !


	8. Heart to Heart

Baki escorted them until they arrived just in front of the door to the Kazekage’s office, dispatching two of his men to guard the door. Anka hadn’t spoken since deciding that they should go back to the military headquarters. Gaara could tell she was dying to, but holding back not to confront him in front of his shinobi. He was grateful for that. This was not a conversation he wanted to have near any kind of public.

Once they entered the room, she kept silent too. But this silence felt strained, unlike their usual companionship. This in itself was more concerning to him than any attack. Being preyed, he was used to; this was new, and somewhat sadder. 

The room was bright, but felt stifling from the unsaid words he could feel dancing around her head. The concern and anger; he could almost taste their bitterness on his tongue.

Air would do them good.

On these thoughts, the  Kazekage walked to the window, and opened it. Anka watched with confusion as he opened the glass panel, and proceeded to climb onto its frame.

“We’re not immediately sneaking out, are we?” She worried.

For some reason, this made him smile a little as he looked back at her.

“We’re not going far.” He reassured her.

And he stepped outside, a sand platform accommodating him. It was usually the way he used to get on the roof of his office, since there were no door leading directly there.

Anka eyed warily his makeshift elevator, as he held his hand out through the  window frame , for her to take.  Gaara frowned, seeing her take a step back hesitantly.

“Trust me. I won’t let you fall.” He added, when her cheeks flushed lightly as she considered how far under them was the ground.

From his knowledge of her training in Konoha, the redhead knew it wasn’t exactly a fear of heights, though she was not too fond of them either. He had already seen her jump from roof to roof back in the day; effortlessly so. What made her nervous must have been the unusual mode of transportation he offered her, in which she could not control how she moved up.

“Promise?” Anka smiled at him, a tensed, forced smile unlike her usual bright ones.

Gaara took a step closer to her, his hand still held out to her. Unused to Anka’s hesitation and obvious unease,  Gaara consciously expanded his platform, drawing more sand from his gourd and the neighboring streets. Anything that could reassure her. 

“I promise.” He nodded, softening his voice like she often did hers.

After a second, Anka nodded as well, and took a deep breath. Her hand found his, and she hoisted herself on the platform. Her hand did not let go once she joined him. Her eyes stayed closed, her other arm circled around his waist and her head pressed against his shoulder.  Gaara felt his heart flutter to have her closely embracing him.

The  Kazekage minded to hoist them up slowly, knowing she wouldn’t like any kind of sudden movement. When a strong gust of wind hit them, her hold on his middle tightened, and  Gaara bit back a soft smile, not wanting to feel joyful at his friend’s expense. 

As soon as their feet touched the flat and unmoving surface of the roof, Anka let go of him to let herself fall on her knees, relief obvious all over her features. 

“Thanks for not letting me fall.” Despite her earlier fright, or maybe because of it, her eyes were shining in the warm light of the sun.

Gaara sat next to her, beholding the village in front of him. It was a sight he liked, for it made him feel like he was doing things right. Up there, he was exposed to the harsh sun; no shadow under which he could hide. The air was warm, too warm, but the wind had a way of making him feel cleansed of his negative emotions.

“I promised, didn’t I?” He absent-mindedly answered.

Perched on the roof,  Gaara felt like he could finally breathe correctly. High as they were, the commotion of the assassination attempt, the swarming of trusted  nins being briefed in the building and sent to observation points and patrol in the streets, it all was nothing more than a light buzzing sound.

His heart was still beating too fast, and he guessed Anka's might be too. While they kept quiet for a while, the tension from their walk back to the  Kazekage’s building was still there. Much less stifling, but his fingers itched uncomfortably, not knowing what to do in the uncomfortable silence. 

Unsurprisingly, she was the first to speak.

“You said you knew what would happen.” She simply said, her head hung low. “It’s the reason why you took us farther away  from the crowd.”

The question was transparent, of course. Her concern was seeping through her words, as she tried to establish facts. It was something he had noticed she did in stressful situations. Observation as a way of coping; as if mastering the facts made them less threatening.

“This has happened before.” He soberly answered.

When he tore his gaze away from the sand-colored buildings, it naturally found hers. Anka was looking at him with more sadness than fright in her eyes. The  Kazekage could not decide if that was a good thing.

“How many times?”

Her hands were shaking.  Gaara knew it not to be from the cold, as the sun was still high enough in the sky. He sat closer, facing her, their knees almost touching. His hands found hers, like she had done his multiple times. It felt weird, being the one to comfort. He still wasn’t sure how it worked. All he knew was that his friend was upset, and that when he was upset, he liked having her hand in his. It was not much, and frankly, he did not believe this conversation could bring her more warmth. But it was still something, he guessed, and something was better than watching her being sad on his account.

“Too many times.”

His words were breathed, so low he wondered how she heard them over the faint sounds of the streets below. The wind had settled into a light breeze, no doubt carrying his weak words from his lips to her ear.

When Anka closed her eyes, a tear rolled on her cheek. Before he could think,  Gaara leaned closer, wiping it hesitantly with his thumb. Naturally, his hand slipped through her hair, and brought her closer to him in a display of love not dissimilar to the one she had showed him years ago.

“Tell me.”

He did. Tightening his hold over her hand, as much for her comfort as for his own, he slowly spoke, about everything he had never been able to tell her when they were younger. Things he had been too afraid to tell her in the past few days; for fear of hurting her feelings. 

He told her of a lonely child, bred for power and ambition, whom could barely speak at the age of five from having no one to talk to. A boy who was kept away from his siblings and from whom other children ran. The playground he had been so often rejected in when he was younger had been covered by more houses in the past few years, but he could still feel where it used to be.

He told her of his uncle, who was the only person who would spend some time with him. He was the one who told him about love, in the first place. He was also the only grown up who didn’t treat him like a weapon. Like a monster. Not that it turned out that well either. Years had passed and  Gaara had forgiven both  Yashamaru and himself, but only after a serious talk with Baki, not so long ago. The older  Jönin had not been so close to  Gaara’s soft-spoken caretaker, but he had known the ANBU’s tenderness for his nephew was genuine.

And, of course, he told her of his father. The key to his isolation. He who had given much for his son’s comfort before he realized the monster he had created could not be controlled; and who had taken back just as quickly.  The man who sent experienced killers on his trail; who wanted to erase every sign that he had even been born. When  Gaara spoke of his rampages, it was with a voice wavering in guilt. It was the first time he had dared to talk to anyone about this side of him, but it felt strangely appropriate that the person he would share this burden with was the first person who had made him realize there is more to life than mindless killing. 

Throughout his recollection, Anka remained close, occasionally leaning to nuzzle into his shoulder while squeezing his hand when she felt him drifting off, seized by unpleasant memories he no longer wanted to face.

“You’ve lived a pretty shitty life,  Gaara .” His friend laughed without mirth, her gaze deeper, sadder, haunted by his memories. “You deserved better, from everyone.”

The  Kazekage frowned, not daring to look directly at her as a familiar heavy feeling settled in his gut. It felt good to open up to her about his past, better than he had thought it would.  Gaara did feel lighter, though he wished it didn’t have to come at the price of this look in her eyes. He hoped it wouldn’t last long; he knew Anka would always look at him and see her friend before seeing his traumatic experiences.

Still, it was a weight he knew he owed to himself to carry; in the memory of those who died at his hand, and in the memory of a little boy who did not deserve to suffer his father’s ambitions. 

“ Yashamaru was the first person who ever showed me love. The first person I ever loved, in return. He was more of a father to me than Rasa ever was. Still... ‘This is it. Please die.’.” The words felt bitter on his tongue as he spoke them. “His last words still hurt, sometimes.”

Anka squeezed his hand, and the young man was thankful for this anchor in the moment, lest he might get swallowed by the forlorn feeling in his chest.

“He should have taken you and run away.”

This made him smile; just a little.

“I would have liked that.”

Maybe he would have met her sooner. Imagination was never his strong suit, but closing his eyes and letting himself dream awake for a moment, he could picture his uncle taking him to a little village in Konoha where he would have grown up safe, meeting with a little Anka, who would spend her summers in the same village. It was a nice fantasy, he breathed deeply in a kind of phantom disappointment.

“The point is...” He opened his eyes again, trying to focus on his previous stream of thoughts. “For the longest time, I was too hurt to think clearly. I thought maybe I didn’t deserve to live, if I made him hate me to the point of wanting to kill me. I didn’t fully realize it was not hatred but my father’s word who had spurred him.”

Her tender touches, back when they met during the  Chûnin exam, had been the first contacts he had accepted, and come to quietly appreciate. They were painless, weak and  _ soft, _ and he loved them as much as he hated loving them. They were that and more, and more importantly; devoid of any later purpose. 

Anka had given him attention and care, without hoping for a result. Just because he was who he was; and that had really been the first moment he had felt like maybe, he deserved to live, really live as well. 

“Up until I met you and Naruto, I was used to being preyed on. It was just another thing in my existence, a proof that life was meaningless. I don’t think I even realized the effort a  Kazekage has to put in to organize an assassination attempt. The hours of discussing, recruiting, establishing plans. I thought assassins just appeared, and disappeared. I didn’t fully realize just how actively my father was trying to kill me.”

Gaara’s throat felt dry, and full, like a solid object was trapped there. Breathing deeply, trying not to suffocate through his next words, the young man closed his eyes.

“When I did, Rasa had already been used and disposed of. I was left with too many things I felt I needed to tell him, but he was dead, and gone, and I never got to confront him about the way he treated us. The way he treated  _ me _ .”

He would have called his father a monster, he thinks. It would have felt good, liberating perhaps, to get to say that to his face. He would have shown that he didn’t need Rasa, that he never had, and told him never again would  Gaara or  Shukaku be used as his little tools. He would have shown him who had the power.

“It felt unjust, and kind of disappointing, that he would be gone before I could have closure.”  Gaara chuckled, but his heart wasn’t in it. “But after all I had done, the lives I had taken... I didn’t get to feel disappointment. I didn’t deserve to feel wronged. I didn’t even deserve to live. I kept silent, and let people mourn their Kazekage.”

It took a few moments for Anka to come up with words. He felt the words brewing in her unfocused gaze; words he knew would be the right ones.

“While I agree that publicly showing hatred towards the Fourth would have been a poor choice, it doesn’t mean anything. You deserve to feel angry, and you deserve to feel... disappointed. It shows great restraint and humility on your part that you put your people’s needs before your own, but you should never forsake your own emotions. They are, at all times and at all places, valid.”

Anka’s hand found his face, softly cupping his cheek and drying a tear he hadn’t felt leaking from his eye. Gaara swallowed thickly, and her fingers slowly migrated to his scar. Never had her touch felt so gentle on his marred skin.

“You don’t have to pretend. Not with me.”

Hesitantly,  Gaara lifted his own hand to his forehead. There, he linked his fingers between hers, before slowly removing them from the kanji and lowering their palms to his chest. Through the thin clothes, he knew she could feel the deep rhythm of his beating heart.

His eyes roamed her face, from the few strands of hair tossed gently by the wind surrounding them, to the visible warmth of her cheeks before settling in her own intense gaze. Deep in his chest, the  Kazekage felt his heart rate quicken, and the knowledge that Anka could feel it too brought him a curious  joy .

“I know.” 

Anka held his gaze for a long moment, looking for any trace of doubt she could find, before she eventually nodded, with tired eyes and a little smile. When she closed her eyes, breathing in the air after everything was said, and hand still underneath his and atop his chest,  Gaara discovered a new feeling.

It was  _ empty _ , but in a good way the word failed to describe; like he had put his essence in front of his friend, and there was now nothing she did not know of him. He was empty and exalted, pleasantly exhausted, from sharing so much he had previously kept to himself in sickening self-doubting. It was... relieving.

It was also  _ full _ , of the tender feeling he had long since identified as that special bond he had only ever shared with Anka; that deep appreciation and companionship.

Was it sound that he still wanted to offer her more of his confused self, though there was nothing remaining of him that was not already hers, but his trembling body and weak, weak heart?

_ How do I know I want that? To be more than friends? _ He recalled the previous morning, the certainty of his sibling’s answers to his interrogations. He envied their confidence.

“Gaara...”

Soft lips landed on the corner of his eye, effectively interrupting his indecisions. The  Kazekage felt his ears burn, and his heartbeat take an unprecedented pace. Anka’s eyes were open, full of a fondness tinted with mirth.

“You’re thinking too much.” She said.

She spoke lowly, just above the wind, and suddenly  Gaara’s mouth felt dry and his hand dropped from his chest, falling uselessly on his lap.

“I think I love you.”  Gaara lied, for the affection he  harbored towards her seemed like the only certainty of his being. “Is that okay?”

The lack of surprise in his friend’s eyes brought him unexpected comfort. It meant she had witnessed his fondness grow and welcomed it. Anka was good. Anka didn’t hurt. Her cheeks looked warm, her composure less confident than was usual, but she seemed content nonetheless.

Her hand left his chest to find his, reuniting their fingers. 

“I think I love you too.” She lied as well, or so her discreet smile betrayed. “ So, I guess it’s fine.” 

The redhead almost missed her chuckle, for the second he heard the words falling from her mouth, his chest felt set ablaze in elated fire. His free palm shot to his heart reflexively as its erratic rhythm surprised him. 

He had known so little good feelings in his life,  Gaara mused. Blaming it on his reserved disposition, and the heinous acts of his youth, he had long since accepted that he would most probably never experience that kind of happiness.

When Anka embraced him, and they laid close together to watch the rare clouds and listen to the whistling of the wind, the  Kazekage found he was very much pleased to have been proven wrong. Her hand in his made him feel stronger, and maybe someday, it would make him feel worthy as well.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It was about time they finally discussed Gaara's past ! I'm so glad that's behind them now.
> 
> I know a lot of people were expecting a kiss and I'm sorry to disappoint... They WILL kiss, it's already written and saved. I just couldn't see Gaara asserting his feelings physically right now, not after having spent a lot of social energy telling Anka about his past and then his feelings.
> 
> Next chap will be the last before the epilogue, it's a bit longer than the others, and it will be posted next Wednesday.
> 
> Hope you liked this chapter ! If so don't hesitate to leave a comment, those always make my day :D


	9. To The Dream's End

When Temari heard what had almost happened, and barged in the  Kazekage’s office to find an empty chair, her first reaction was one of panic; or so she told her youngest brother the next day at breakfast. Had someone managed to get him despite the ANBU’s efforts to secure the perimeter surrounding the  Kazekage’s building? Had he stubbornly gone out again with his girlfriend? Though she did not leave him much time to do so,  Gaara did not correct her, his ears feeling just a bit warm at the mention.

She had only calmed down when Kankurô, already in the room and sitting on the windowsill, had gestured towards the ceiling 'solemnly eavesdropping like the idiot he is’ (her words).

“Was not.”  Kankurô huffed, and Temari lifted an eyebrow and closed her arms in a doubtful expression that made him crack. “Okay, I was, but come on, you heard them-”

Had he been drinking at the moment, Gaara might have coughed up his water. Truth be told, there was little harm in his siblings listening to Anka and his conversation, considering he would have told them sooner than later; but there was a reason he had chosen to have that moment with her on the roof and nowhere else. It was profoundly private and not meant for anyone to listen in but the two of them.

“You heard everything?” his inquiry sounded just a bit more scandalized than he genuinely felt.

Kankurô's guilty smile was completely denied by the look in his eyes, which was a mix of excitement and faded sorrow; probably from the subject he had spied them talking about.  Gaara had never been as open with his siblings about the memories from his childhood, always assuming they had been there for most of the story anyway. They were probably happy he had finally found someone with whom to share the weight of his past.

Temari sighed, before smiling reassuringly his way.

“We didn’t stay long. Just the time to make sure you sounded okay. You were still talking about our father when we left.” Her smile got tight, and then disappeared into a frown at the mention of Rasa.

Gaara nodded, glad they had not overstepped too much, contrary to what  Kankurô liked to imply. He did know the puppeteer to hide his real emotions behind his constant cocky behavior, and if the fabricated  smirk and hooded look he now sported was any indication, that was the case in this instance.

Among the many things  Gaara was thankful for, was the support his siblings had shown when he had tried to break through his trauma and become a better person. They had never liked too much their father, much preferring Baki’s formal but earnest training and Saari’s jokes and nice gestures. Still, they had never known the full extent of his mistreatment of their younger brother, only remembering the room full of toys he had been given as a young child and their initial jealousy. They had not known all that had been given to him had been taken back. Though they had witnessed several unhappy incidents between their father and brother, they had not either guessed Rasa’s violent feelings towards  Gaara had been at the origin of assassination attempts –or at least, not that many.

They had learnt more after coming back from Konoha; some from Baki and some from the quiet boy himself. They had immediately stopped mourning their father, and had offered their sympathy and every  effort to give  Gaara back the childhood he had been robbed of, by taking him to places they liked, and generally learning to get to know him again.

Gaara fully credited his successful rise as  Kazekage to their undying support, especially when he imagined how different things could have been had Temari and  Kankurô rather followed the steps of their late father and kept despising him.

“I forgive you.” He reassured them, earning a grateful nod from Temari.

As he drank his tea, his mind flew back to the day and night before. His memories of their conversation were somewhat blurred –he was relieved to have aired out his feelings regarding his childhood, he really was. It was precisely the reason why he could not remember clearly all he had told her; he knew he wouldn’t let go of his traumatic memories in a single day, not even with her help, but for the first time in forever he thought maybe he could, eventually. 

They had then let the late afternoon and early night pass them by, listening to the streets quiet down;  cloud watching stretching into stargazing; only leaving their spot on the roof when the cold became unbearable. They had slipped under his sheets, her arms sneaking around him and bringing him closer to her heart.

He had not really slept, only drifting between consciousness and dreams he could not remember. Anka had woken up earlier than he would have expected, and regretfully left his arms, as tradition called for the next day after the end of the festival to be spent among close family.

It was actually why he had taken the time, after seeing her out of the building with one last squeeze of her hand in his, to make some breakfast for his siblings. Usually, it was  Kankurô's job, as he was the most proficient of them at cooking, but  Gaara had insisted on learning some basic things so he could relieve his brother of the duty sometimes. 

The first time  Kankurô and Temari had arrived in their dining room and discovered their breakfast already made, though messily disposed and obviously lacking experience, they had been so stunned  Gaara had ended up leaving the room, peeved by their visible lack of enthusiasm.

Now that they were a bit more used to it, they welcomed the sight with grateful smiles and a gentle hand on his shoulder.

Gaara snapped out of his thoughts when he noticed the way the table was unusually silent, and the looks his siblings exchanged. While it was not unusual for the siblings to eat in silence in the mornings, especially after an emotionally draining day such as that they had lived through yesterday, this one felt odd.

“What is it?”

Kankurô looked away innocently. Turning to Temari to have a more detailed answer, his older sister looked bashful, as if not knowing whether she should say something.  Gaara wondered if it was something he wore, or his cooking.

“It’s nothing.” The blonde appeared to fight a tiny, unsure smile. “You just... You look like you’re in a surprisingly good mood, for someone who fought off an assassin yesterday.”

Gaara saw his brother nodding in his peripheral vision, and felt his ears grow warmer by the second they were looking at him. He dodged their inquiring gazes, yet wanting nothing more than to share with his siblings the last of their conversation. After a couple of minutes suffering their curious stares, he spoke.

“I told Anka I love her.”

His words came out  more sudden and graver than he intended, but a very small smile did appear on his lips at the memory, which appeared to reassure Temari, who had tensed up at his cool tone.

“That’s... That’s great,  Gaara . How did she respond?”

On another day,  Gaara might have frowned at his sister’s surprised tone; especially since they had been the one to advise him to put his feelings in the clear regarding his friendship with Anka. Did they think he would not? 

Still, as things were, he  _ was _ feeling better than he had in a while, and barely noticed hers and  Kankurô's stunned expressions.

“She reciprocated the feeling.” There was the faintest trace of pride in his voice, and the way he sat up straighter, smile growing a little.

Kankurô beamed at him, crossing his arms behind his head excitedly.

“So, like, did you kiss her, or did she kiss you?”

His smirk confused Gaara, who dropped his own smile and tilted his head. No. He had not. She had not. Were they supposed to? At the moment, he had only felt elation at her answer, and their usual embraces had seemed a good seal on their feelings. He had thought about brushing her lips with his, but this felt almost too soon after their exchange to consummate this act already.

Had she expected it of him? She had seemed content enough to hold his hand and his chest to her heart, and if she had been disappointed in any way, he had not realized it, nor had she said anything.

“No. It didn’t feel just right at the moment, I suppose.” He shrugged, trying not to let doubts take root in his head.

Anka was candid and honest; she would have told him.

“It’s fine!”  Kankurô started backpedaling when he sensed what went on in his younger brother’s head. “It’s just, you know, usually the first thing new couples do. Like, did you say you  _ love _ her or you’re  _ in love _ with her?”

Temari kicked him under the table, sending an apologetic smile at her youngest brother, obviously either disagreeing with  Kankurô or very much embarrassed by his words.

“Don’t listen to him, Gaara. I’m glad for you two.”

The  Kazekage frowned, putting his tea cup down before he even could  sip from it.

“Thank you, but I want to hear what he has to say. Is there a difference?”

Rubbing his shin under the table, the puppet master grimaced, all the while trying to find his words.

“Well, usually, there isn’t. It’s just that you two have been very close and, you know, friends can  _ love  _ each other; you two did for years. Saying you’re  _ in love _ with her clears that doubt.”

Gaara thought about his moment with Anka the day before, of it being a misunderstanding; and shook his head with  distaste . It could not be. His intentions had been clear, at least he thought so; though they hadn’t talked about what this new knowledge would bring to their future. He refused to think Anka might have not meant what he did.

“No, it can’t... We understand each other.” He spoke with confidence, and his brother lifted his hands in surrender. 

_ We understand each other. _

As certain as  Gaara was of the nature of the confession he had made, and the shift in his and Anka’s relation, a part of him considered his brother’s words carefully.  Kankurô might know more about love, but he knew more about Anka. Still,  it would not do to let a possible misunderstanding grow, and so the  Kazekage decided it would not hurt to make himself clearer, if possible.

This is why later in the afternoon, he walked decidedly to the  Rukushika’s residence, and politely asked for her.  He recognized the man who opened the door as the keeper of the bar the elder  Rukushika had led them to on Anka’s first day. He did not seem overly surprised at seeing the young man at his door, though  Gaara felt from the man’s cautious gaze that he knew who was in front of him.

Anka seemed moderately confused to find him here on a day dedicated to family, but not unpleasantly so. She still addressed him a bright smile, quelling whatever concern of having disturbed her.

“Will you walk with me?” 

His words were chosen, carefully so, and Anka understood his discreet quest for privacy.

“Of course.”

Gaara waited as she went inside to excuse herself to her family, and when she came out again, it was with her cheeks endearingly flushed.

“Let’s just go.” She just said, obviously a bit embarrassed, and Gaara wondered if it was by his fault. 

When she took his hand in hers and practically dragged him away, the question disappeared from his mind, as well as much else. They wandered around without a word for a while, very much like they used to, which brought warmth to the  Kazekage’s chest. The streets felt oddly empty, after the animation of the past few days. It was not so surprising, though, considering it was the first in many years that this day was not darkened by hurling winds and flying sand. People were still waiting for it, but the  Kazekage felt like this year, it would not come.

Gaara was not superstitious, but he decided it was a good sign.

After a bit of roaming around, they found themselves not too far away from the greenhouses. It felt like a quiet enough place; the workers were probably enjoying their day off with their family as well. 

_ I’m in love with you. _

They both sat down in the shade, facing each other as if in a repeat of the day before. He did not dare take her hands in his quite yet, overcome with unpleasant uncertainty until he could clear the mess in his head.

“I’m sorry I took you from your family.” He started, looking at his hands, frowning.

It was selfish of him, he knew. Anka had come to  Sunagakure to meet these people, yet when it came to it, he took her from them with minimal guilt.

“It’s fine.” She reassured him, and he knew it was, because Anka never lied to him.

Her hand left her lap and found his scar, tracing the  _ Love _ on his forehead. When it moved to play idly with strands of his hair,  Gaara closed his eyes from the pleasant sensation.

The words slipped from his tongue without any thought.

“I’m in love with you.”

The hand didn’t stop its ministrations. It pushed his hair back a little, and before he knew, fleeting strands tickled his cheeks and soft lips settled on his kanji. They stayed there a few moments, before Anka pulled away, and Gaara opened his eyes lazily to behold her.

From where he looked at her, the light brightly shining through the glass behind her, she looked more than just human.

“I know.” 

Her smile was honest, the kind that could quietly light a blaze in his chest. Her words were spoken softly, and left no doubt on her own feelings.  Gaara didn’t realize how much tension his older brother had instilled in him until he became free of it.

There was something in her gaze, though, that refrained him from expressing his relief. 

“That’s why I want you to be careful with what you want,  Gaara .” Her hand came to hold his, as she looked down. “I know your feelings are sincere, because that’s who you are. Mine are too.”

Gaara frowned, unsure where she was getting. Did she not want him? He knew he wanted her. For a long time, he hadn’t known how exactly; and he would be honored to remain her friend before anything else. He just knew he wanted her to remain close to him throughout their lives, and that he was never as happy as laying by her side in the quiet hours of the morning.

“I just want you to be certain of what you want. It’s been a long time since we last saw each other, and only a week since we reconnected.”

He would not let them go so long without seeing each other,  Gaara wanted to promise; the perspective of going again for years of her absence leaving a bad taste on his tongue.

“If you are to act on these feelings, I want you to be one hundred percent sure you love me that way, and that you want me in your life.” Anka finished soberly, but sweetly.

There were many things  Gaara wanted to say in answer to her statement; but her logic was sound. He knew their feelings to be nothing new, having only grown through the longing and cherishing of their past memories. This week had felt better than any dream, and in return was just as short-lived. The idea of a life with her constantly by his side was appealing; and though he knew his heart to be in the right place, he could understand haste was no solid ground.

With a little smile of his own, he nodded.

“Of course. I will be.”

The following night,  Gaara laid on his bed with a heavy heart and melancholy for only company. In the morning, Anka would be gone, back to her village and back to her friends. He had made her promise she would come back, and soon; but he knew the weeks would be long before she could find the time to travel again. Three days through the desert; and with sandstorm season nearing. Not a trip most would suffer through willingly. It was precisely the reason why  Suna had always been isolated from the other villages;  impracticality called for staying away from the desert.

He had told Anka just as much, of course; giving her excuses not to come back, as if he did not crave her presence.

_ I’ll just have to stay longer next time, then, to make it worth the trip. _

He had almost asked to kiss her right then, to see the mischievous look in her eyes up close; but his embarrassment at how suddenly this desire had risen had made him look away, and breathe deeply to calm his heart.

Gaara turned one more time in his empty bed, thinking on summoning his sand to her shape and trick himself into sleeping the way he had done for many years now. Still, after having had her warm and soft presence next to him more than once in the past few days, it felt somewhat wrong to mimic her.

Finally, after what could have been one hour or three of restlessness and anxious thoughts, his turmoil was interrupted by a knock on his door. He sat up quickly, more in surprise than in concern. Whoever had made it this far could not be a danger, or else the various guards Baki had insisted to place in his aisle of the building would have stopped them by now. What enemy would softly knock, as if the door would  break?

Having an  inkling on who might be his nightly visitor,  Gaara did not bother to change into a more formal attire before opening the door.

There, in a blanket tightly wrapped around herself, stood Anka. Her hair was wild and her gaze tired, and  Gaara might have been worried if it were not for the sheepish  grin she was sporting.

“Hi.” She whispered, as if she were not standing outside his quarters at spirits knew how early in the morning.

For some reason, an instinctive, incredulous chuckle erupted in his chest.

“Did you walk all the way here?” His voice came out lighter, altered by disbelief and amusement.

The healer playfully shoved him out of the doorframe and made her way into the quiet room.

“I couldn’t sleep.” Anka yawned, seemingly as soon as her eyes caught sight of the rumpled sheets on the bed.

Gaara closed the door behind her, noting as she let go of her blanket that his friend was indeed in sleepwear. The redhead almost chuckled at her words, not believing them for one second; Anka was, after all, known to fall asleep anytime and anywhere. He wondered what more might have made her leave her bed, and so suddenly she had not taken the time even to properly dress.

“Couldn’t... Or wouldn’t?” The  Kazekage gently pushed her towards the bed (no reason to send her back, now that she was here) when he saw her slight shivers, watching as she welcomed the warmth and softness of the sheets.

The healer immediately surrounded herself in his blanket, and  Gaara soon joined her, almost mechanically wrapping his arms around her as though to keep the cold at bay.

Anka quickly hid her face in his shoulder, and  Gaara repressed a shiver when her cold nose touched his skin. When she spoke, he heard slight  embarrassment in her tone; but no trace of regret.

“I’ll be gone in the morning.” Her voice came out muffled, and she pulled him a bit closer, looking for his reassurance. “I want my last hours here to be with you.”

Gaara hummed contentedly, glad his friend could not see how much her words made his body flare up. It didn’t matter that it was the third or the last time that Anka graced his bed, her presence in his arms in the middle of the night seemed surreal, like a mirage.

He would miss her. Every night, he would miss her, he realized; and the dull aching in his heart, tamed from years of quieting his yearning, felt more acute than it had for a long time. Temari had said loving was missing the person, no matter how far or close they were. Now, he understood. Gaara closed his eyes to indulge in her presence and forget the inevitable sorrow that would follow her departure. 

“Will you let me walk you to the edge of the village?” He murmured in her hair.

“Of course.” He felt her lips brushing his skin.

They stayed like this for a moment, until the  Kazekage noticed the way Anka’s head felt  heavier against him, and a regular shaking that could not be explained by the cold, but rather that the healer would not let herself fall asleep.

“You need to rest.” He breathed with the littlest trace of mirth when he noticed her stubborn refusal to let her eyes fall closed.

In weak indignation, Anka mock shoved his flank.

“I don’t want to waste more time.” There was a yawn in her voice, and they both heard it.  Gaara didn’t answer, his silence on the subject louder than any whispered answer. After a minute, Anka sighed in defeat. “Maybe... I’ll just rest my eyes for a second.”

When her breathing evened, a few moments later,  Gaara allowed himself to relax and follow her into the land of dreams.

“I will miss you.”

His voice must have come out more forlorn than he had intended, for  Gaara soon felt his hand engulfed in both of Anka’s.

“I will come back. Soon. You’ll barely notice I’m gone.”

Gaara found himself disagreeing with that statement.

They had woken up early to walk back to the  Rukushika residence, where Anka had retrieved her belongings. There, she had said goodbye to her family, with promises of coming back, and for a longer period of time, in the near future. Many smirks and looks had been sent her way, for they may or may not have been aware of the  Kazekage’s presence in front of their house, waiting for Anka to walk to the gate.

They had said goodbye to  Kadja as well, for the elder had decided to remain in  Sunagakure and make up there for all the lost time she had been exiled in Konoha.  Gaara had been surprised, but secretly happy Anka had one more incentive to come back. 

“You promise?” He still asked, frowning, for he already felt the very absence he would  supposedly barely notice.

Anka nodded, and her hand came to soothe the worried crease on his forehead.

“I promise.” Her voice did not waver, and when her thumb brushed his kanji,  Gaara was taken by the sudden urge to cover her lips with his own.

_ Don’t be greedy. _

One of his hands came to hesitantly cup her face as the  Kazekage forgot for a deserved while that they were standing under the main gate of the village. The healer leaned against his palm, a quiet answer in her eyes to a question not yet asked.

_ Don’t- _

“May I kiss you?” 

Gaara was almost surprised by how steadily his inquiry came out, the confidence of his tone miles from his tentative touch. His pale gaze was serene, his heart beating even and strong as he calmly expressed his desire.

Anka’s eyes widened slightly, first with surprise and then tenderness, as she remembered her words from the day before.

_ If _ _ you are to act on these feelings, I want you to be one hundred percent sure you love me that way, and that you want me in your life. _

He had told her he would be, and he was now.

“Please.” She  smiled; the softest he had ever witnessed.

Gaara leaned in, grateful and awkward, oddly nervous, too much to smile. His lips brushed hers a first time, a ghost of a kiss, and he froze there for a moment, wondering if his friend felt the same shivers he did. Maybe she did; for the next moment, her hand in his hair pulled him a bit closer, properly sealing the space between them. When her lips started slowly moving against his own,  Gaara felt his heart beat as if on a battlefield, the tip of his fingers prickling almost uncomfortably.

How could a simple touch bring such sensations, he did not know; but when he broke the contact, his breathing uneven and his palm flying from her face and to his heart, Gaara figured he very much liked it.

“Are you okay?” Anka immediately fretted, though appearing almost as shaken as he was, cheeks darkened and hair a bit messier.

“I feel like my heart is bursting. ” He confessed with a bashful smile, his own cheeks red from a foreign embarrassment.

The healer delicately lifted his hand from his heart, only to replace it with her own. When she felt its quickened pace, a sweet chuckle escaped her soft, soft lips.

“It will be fine.” She assured him, leaning in to steal a kiss from the corner of his lips. “I promise.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So. I hope the wait wasn't too frustrating... Kind of a weird chapter, I know, it's a bit hard for my aro ass to write full on romance. I did my best, though, so I hope you still liked it !
> 
> I'm not exactly done with the epilogue yet, so I don't know precisely when I will update. Probably in no more than a week. 
> 
> Don't hesitate to give me your thoughts on this chapter ! I'd appreciate to know if the long lead to the kiss was more frustrating or sweet ? I was hesitant to shorten it, especially in this chapter, but it didn't feel too natural to have them jump into a relationship after only a week, so...  
> Anyway.  
> Have a nice day !
> 
> EDIT: Had a really busy week, little time to write, I'm almost done but the next couple of days are going to be hectic so... posting as soon as I can !


	10. Epilogue

Gaara closed his last folder of documents for the day, letting out a relieved sigh as he did. The day had been excruciatingly long; especially in his restless state. The deep bags under his eyes had had more than one of his advisors on edge, expecting their leader to lash out at them at the first inconvenience. Fortunately for them, the Kazekage’s restlessness was matched only by his longing for the day to be over, and smoothly so. 

He could not help it, and the same would happen every time his girlfriend came to visit: a mix of impatience and concern keeping him up at night in the days before her actual coming. This time had been exceptionally bad; for Anka had been forced to delay her coming for a whole month, making it a full season -and then some- since the last time he had properly held her in his arms, or felt her soft skin against his lips. 

Little after her first visit two years prior, Anka had obtained the Hokage’s authorization to spend roughly half of her time working in Sunagakure as the Kazekage’s healer. The length of the trip made it so that the healer would spend alternatively three months in Sunagakure and three months in Konohagakure. Gaara was never as happy as when she was here. Months of her presence were spent in bliss, and her absence made the streets of Sunagakure uncharacteristically dull to his eyes. On several occasions, he had managed to schedule a diplomatic visit in Konoha halfway through their separations, but with the season of sandstorms upon them these past few months, his village had needed him more than he needed to see his love. 

As soon as he was done putting away the papers on his desk, Gaara left his office, not even bothering to change out of his Kazekage wear. Quickly, he made his way to the formal residence his siblings still inhabited, and where he knew he would find Anka if she had already arrived. It was not that she had taken a liking to the place; she knew her lover was uncomfortable with the idea of living in a place attached to so many heavy memories. Still, Anka didn’t like the idea of every guard in the building being aware of every time she was sleeping in his bed, and so, she had accepted Temari’s offer of a room in their home. This meant Gaara effectively spent most of his nights during her stays in the house that saw him be born, and would regretfully keep doing so until they found a better alternative. 

He didn’t mind it so much, he figured, as long as every moment in that house was spent in her company. Anka just had a way of taking his mind off things. 

Only when Gaara walked past the threshold did the exhaustion of weeks with little to no sleep really come over him. He felt it pull at his every muscle, a headache quietly forming. Any other day, Gaara would have let tears of exhaustion fill his eyes, and would have crashed unconscious on the nearest soft surface. Only the knowledge that his love was finally here, after weeks of waiting, kept him moving to the living room, from where he could hear feminine voices. 

When he cracked open the door, words were spoken that made him stop in his tracks. 

“He looks happier, you know.” 

The Kazekage stopped moving, his hand on the door’s handle, when he heard his sister’s voice. It was not in his habit to listen in on other people’s conversations, but Temari’s words were full of a tenderness rarely heard from her. 

“I guess so.” Anka’s sweet voice did something to his heart, but she had said it was a normal reaction that he should not worry about; especially considering his heart was long-since healed. 

“I’m glad you’re back in his life. I was afraid he would have Kankurô for only company if I ever moved away.” 

Gaara frowned, as he figured that might be why, in spite of his every encouragement to go, Temari’s visits to her boyfriend in Konoha had been so few and far between. He could only relate to the man (Shikamaru, if his memory served him well), wondering how he hadn’t gone crazy yet seeing his girlfriend so rarely, and for such short spans of time. 

He made a mental note to insist on her taking some time for herself soon; especially since Anka would be here for him for the next several weeks. 

“I’m glad too, trust me.” Anka’s voice was light, almost distracted, and Gaara heard the sound of plates being set on the table. “Should I tell him when he comes home?” 

Her earnest interrogation caught the Kazekage’s attention, and he wished he knew whether to be intrigued or concerned. He and Anka rarely ever kept things from one another. He couldn’t see what she would feel the need to conceal from him, and could only hope it didn’t stem from a fear of his reaction. Gaara was a sensible man, who loved her very much. He would never get angry at her. 

In his confusion, and with concern quickly taking over his tired mind, Gaara tightened his grip on the door handle, making it squeak loud enough to draw the attention of the two. As Gaara would be dead sooner than caught eavesdropping, he pushed the door fully open. 

“Gaara!” 

Not having taken a single step in the room yet, Gaara still found his body colliding with her own; his official hat being knocked off in the process. His arms moved on their own to pull her tightly against his chest, something like survival instinct. Anka buried her face in his shoulder, breathing him in happily after one too many months of absence. 

_Never again_ , Gaara thought as he kissed above her ear, her hair soft and perfumed. 

“Welcome back.” He murmured tiredly, smiling when Anka tried to escape his hold to take a better look at him. He wasn’t letting go just yet. 

When they finally parted, the Kazekage noticed Temari had disappeared, probably to the kitchen, to give them some privacy. Making the most of it, Gaara kissed her lips slowly, feeling his heart booming happily for the first time in months. When he pulled back, any energy that had surged through him when he heard her voice suddenly disappeared, and Gaara felt himself staggering forward. 

Anka was quick to catch him, a little sigh leaving her lips as she figured the reason for his sudden weakness; the same every time, only worsened by her prolonged absence. 

“Let’s get you to bed.” Her voice was tender, and Gaara didn’t need to open his eyes to know she was smiling fondly at him. 

“I would like that very much.” He gratefully accepted her help as she supported him towards their shared room, every step making him feel his exhaustion more acutely. 

He could barely remember the last time he had slept, let alone in that room and in her arms. As soon as Anka closed the door behind him, he noticed the sheets had been changed and the room aired before he arrived. She knew him so well, he mused as she helped him out of his garments and into bed. 

From his place under the sheets, he watched with warm cheeks as Anka undressed quickly. No matter how many times he had seen her in similar context, and that there was scarcely any part of her that he had not explored with his palms and with his lips in rare moments of passion, Gaara had a feeling he would never get used to it. 

Soon enough, she joined him, and the young man wasted no time pulling her against him. 

“I missed you.” He mumbled against her neck. 

In the way her arms pulled him in tighter, he knew she had missed him too, and so every day; but his ears were tired and when she spoke, he could discern no coherent words from her speech, only an impression of fondness and care. _Safe_ , he felt, as his eyelids fell closed and his mind grew blurry. 

Soon enough, his breathing evened, and to the land of dreams, he trailed. 

Soft pressure against his cheek, and then his jaw, pulled Gaara from his sleep. A moan rumbled in his chest when the next chosen spot became his lips, and he lazily returned the affection given to him. 

When he opened one eye and the fog in his thoughts cleared a little, the Kazekage quickly noticed the mess of limbs they had become in his sleep, as his legs were entwined with Anka’s and his arms had pulled her above him to rest on his chest. 

“How much did I sleep?” he stifled a yawn, detangling his limbs from her to stretch a little, wincing from the way they still ached. 

His lover’s hand found his hair as she smiled apologetically. 

“Only a couple of hours. It is still the evening. Baki and Kankurô have come for a late dinner, if you’re up for it.” 

Gaara hummed contentedly as her deft fingers tamed his bed head. 

“Just give me a few more minutes.” He negotiated, letting his head fall back onto his pillow, before closing his eyes to sort his thoughts. 

He did peek bashfully when he felt the mattress dip and rustling sheets as his lover let herself out of the bed. His gaze caught her knowing smirk, and Gaara shut his eye closed, cheeks just a bit warmer than they were before. 

Only then, after hearing a light chuckle, did he remember the conversation he had interrupted earlier in the day. 

“Anka... Was there something you wanted to tell me?” 

When he felt the mattress dip again, just beside him, Gaara opened one eye. The healer, fully clothed, was sitting next to his head. Her finger came to flick his forehead teasingly. 

“And how would you know that, my dear?” 

Gaara smiled at the pet name, catching her wrist and lowering it to his side. No more flicks if he could help it. 

“I heard you talking with my sister when I came in.” He admitted, daring her to call him out on his accidental eavesdropping. 

Anka smiled and huffed, looking away, and only when he followed her gaze did Gaara notice the desert rose on the windowsill. The little thing was smooth, no longer as beautifully rugged as it was the day it was made, but it held many memories and Gaara couldn’t hide the fondness he held for the thing. 

He rarely caught her doing it, but he knew Anka still held it when she missed him. Sometimes, when some emergency had kept him late at his office, or her at the hospital, he would come home to find it on his home desk or on the bedside table. Gaara was both grateful and embarrassed of the attention she still paid to his first gift. None of the other presents he had given to her ever got this much appreciation, which was precious, in a way. 

“If I tell you now, you have to act surprised later.” Anka teased, knowing fully well Gaara couldn’t act to save his life. 

Intrigued, the Kazekage lifted himself on his elbows to close some of the distance between them. 

“I can try.” He assured eagerly enough. 

Anka chuckled, and leant down to place a chaste kiss on his lips. 

"I don't have to go back.” She whispered in his ear. “Not anymore...” 

There was a moment of silence, during which Gaara’s brain processed the words spoken to him. His gaze unfocused, his thoughts flaring, he barely noticed the hand Anka slipped into his own. 

“You’re staying?” He cleared his throat, which felt suspiciously tight. “You’re staying for good?” 

When she nodded, Gaara pulled her against him, letting them fall again onto the bed. This time, when she protested half-heartedly, he did not let her go, keeping her atop his chest for the time it took to think through this new information. 

“Are you sure? You won’t come to regret it, will you? Your friends and parents are in Konoha.” 

Half of him was screaming in dry frustration at the half that wouldn’t let himself be overjoyed before knowing if she was serious. One of his hands found her shoulders, the other the small of her back, as Gaara kept her close to his heart; awaiting her answer with bated breath. 

Anka’s hand cupped his cheek, and her lips came to grace his cheek. She smiled patiently, with the littlest trace of mischief in her eyes. 

“I have friends in Suna as well. We’ll just have to visit each other sometimes.” 

Her lips descended down to his collarbone, where she placed a gentle kiss before giving him a cocky smile. 

“And I don’t plan on regretting.” She affirmed, without a single trace of hesitation in her voice. 

Gaara held her gaze for a few seconds, before a relieved sigh left his lips and a warm feeling bloomed in his chest. Soon enough, he was smiling as well, drunk on the feeling she had instilled in his chest. 

“I won’t either.” He promised, uselessly, as it had always been clear. 

In the way she grabbed his hand to place her lips on his wrist, he heard _‘_ _I know’_. 

Now that she would stay here, they would be able to move into a simpler, better house that would be just theirs. But not too far from here, he guessed, for he would miss dining with his siblings, and he knew Anka would too. They could adopt a pet, become one of these couples with a lifestyle Kankurô would no doubt call _boring_ but Gaara found charming. Maybe even marry, sometime... 

The thought flustered him enough to let go of Anka, who sat up again; pulling him up with her. 

“Come on, love. They’ll be waiting for us.” 

His blush died down as he dressed himself, and he was surprised to see a ghost of a smile in his reflection. Taking a deep breath, he combed through his hair with his fingers, and quieted his thoughts. 

They would have time for these later. For now, they had a little party to attend. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know exactly what to say, except that I am very much moved to be posting the epilogue of this story.  
> I've been working on this fic since January, and it's been such a pleasant experience! It's the first time I manage to finish such a long story, almost 60k words of fluff and Gaara! I did not expect to have so many readers, and so much feedback, so I thank you all so much for all your nice comments. You're the best. :D
> 
> I don't want to say goodbye to Anka and Gaara just yet, and so I will be working now on a third part to this series, which will be set when Gaara adopts Shinki ! It won't be a long fic, just a few moments of their lives together. I'll post it on a separate work, so if you want to be notified when I post it, you can subscribe to the series !
> 
> As always, don't hesitate to give me your thoughts on this work ! I'd be interested to know what you liked best (do you have a favorite between ITLOW and FTDTC?).  
> Thank you for reading, and for the last time on this work, have a nice day !


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